A tailors song
The fabric is chosen by the tailor
But sewn by the mind,
The hands are instruments of coercion
Forcing the machine to do it's bidding.
The sewing machine,
A slave to multiple masters
Willingly follows suit
Fulfilling it's masters wish without compliant.
The legs to frequently peddle the metal
The eyes ever vibrant, seeing all miscreants.
The hands, with a mind of it's own, pummeling all tasks with vigor.
The tailor agile and smart,
With resounding wisdom of things to come
Creativity speaks through the cloth
A master of arts in blending various fabrics.
This is the tailors song
Their life eternal
Their source to their lanterns ring
Their sole birthright.
Hello everyone, it's good to be you, I've said that gonna be posting everyday and I'm gonna be doing that. This is a good day for me, cause I just got a new shirt from my brother, I'm really happy, mostly for him though cause he's really getting better at sewing.
He's really good and I know he's gonna go places for sure. So like I said I was so happy then I decided to write him a poem.
DIVING DEEP
I'm gonna be starting something as from today, and this is it, if I'm writing a poem for someone I'm not gonna explain it.
But throughout this poem I'm acknowledging someone and that's my brother.
Okay I'll explain just a little.
All tailors use almost all the parts of their body to sew a cloth, and that's what I'm saying here.
In this poem I'm just praising the works of various parts of the body in contributing to the successful making of a very expensive fabric.
So I guess that's it, please try to understand the poem cause there's no deep explanation this time, I'm going now, later guys.
my quill bleeds