Day 10, NaPoWriMo

today I measured in small stitches
gathering up the edges of curves
part watching the silver needle
keeping the thread from twisting
ironing turned edges with a firm hand.
While my work began to build
I listened to a poet spin out words
building an epic tale of ages past
telling the story so plain I wept
at the end as the hero’s pyre burned
and his loyal men fulfilled his wishes.
To tell an epic story, to march the words
forward and forward and forward
until they overlook the seas of time
that’s all our work, small pieces
we might hope to leave behind for
someone else to hold and see.