With threads of silken fibers wound around
hand-carved bobbins, spools that lay in place,
To rest, lest soon the complex plan confound,
As brightly colored pinheads mark their space.
Bolster pillows fast secure the stays,
And prickings guide her expert fingers, deft,
Art from generations’ yesterdays,
Remains uniquely spun, a family craft.
Forgetting precious ways would be bereft,
Ignoring all that was and came before,
Her culture, wrought from eons past, has left
a trove of ancient peoples’ fact and lore.
On bridal cape, or newborn babe adorned,
To bless and consecrate a special day,
Her flying fingers ply from dusk to dawn,
This family heirloom lace will never fray.
The threads of past and future take their place,
In brilliantly simplistic art of lace.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Intricate