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There is a fabric being woven, good and true
A fabric that is added to, in every day, anew
A tissue made of sacrifice, of hopefulness and love
Each stitch a confirmation of a trust in things above
Sometimes we may pull loose, and cause a loop, to get away
We may not always want to stay enmeshed in God’s good way
But He knows how to smooth, to disentangle, to re-weave
For His is the design, a cloth so fine, none can perceive
And so, although our days are made of choices, good and bad
Each hair-fine, loving fibre will, with skill, form richest plaid
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I can't remember when I didn't write poems but as I've got older, I find they spill into my head, often at inconvenient times of the morning! I use to write them on my way to work, hence the title of my blog, but now I've given up to go trekking around in a campervan with my husband. Plenty of time to reflect on the world, though I don't claim to understand it any better....
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