Weaving a Poem

Just for you, I am weaving a poem.
It starts out quite slow, but the more that I move,
The more that I sing a quaint song.
I’m spinning and dreaming a poem.

It starts out quite slow but the more that I move,
The more that it warms to the touch.
I’m spinning and dreaming a poem,
And I’ve found, it grows as I gather so much.

The more that it warms to the touch,
I discover, the more that it finds its own life.
And I’ve found it grows as I gather so much
Newfound wisdom and spirit and life.

I discover the more that it finds its own life
The more I let go of the reigns.
Newfound wisdom and spirit and life,
It burns with deep passionate strains.

The more I let go of the reigns,
The more I sing a quaint song.
It burns with deep passionate strains.
Just for you, I am weaving a poem.