My, I pulled back the poor child deflected
As I embroidered The Child of cotton on the imprinted...
Factory fabric that they sent scented,
Trying to tailor Tiny Toys their Trademark...
And as I stretched, as I twitched, laboured a mark
Till the night got washed by my sheets of dark
I'd stitch your garments... which are
Still to be thought...
And out with a spindle... clothes would I contort
The Child winced and wailed,
As by the 'i' of my needle: it got caught.
The Child I Made, You Bought
Caroline Van Der Merwe
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 06/13/2020
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Poem topics: dark, night, poor, thought, child, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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