She Doth Protest Too Much

Not again
Not once more
I did it
It’s done
That’s it
The end

How glorious to reach the end!
To put the yarn away again
And with satisfaction gaze upon it
The endless work multiplies no more
Happy day! The blanket now is done
I’ll never need another like it

That’s all that there is too it
I’m happy to see the end
Even though my fun is done
What makes you think I’ll start again?
I’m certainly not making more!
I really couldn’t stand it!

I’m completely sick of it!
Once was enough to do it
Perhaps I’ll dream of more…
But I know this is the end
I couldn’t be enticed again
The decision’s made and done

I know I’m bored now it’s done
But I told you I couldn’t do it
Not again!
 
Of course I’m going to do it
Couldn’t help myself in the end
Alas, ’tis yarn, I’ll always be wanting more

Another? Why not twenty more?
Think how pretty they’ll be when done!
Or perhaps this one will be the end…
The future’s too far to plan it
And though I might deny it
I’ll likely try to carve it into stone again

And that’s the end of it
Not bad to get more done
So, hit repeat and do it all again


I tend to do this every time I finish crocheting something.

Written for dVerse.


 

Seeker

for the Honeybee and dVerse

for the unicorn seeker

as you search the clouds

and the ocean waves

rising dancing streams of white

your eyes search every

view for the elusive unicorn

they say there is no unicorn

why then are you a seeker?

peering through tangled branches and every

dream caught against the sky’s clouds

hoping for a glimpse of a dazzling white

mane falling in waves

light and frothy like clouds

then you’ll know a unicorn

and reach to touch the horn white.

the journey is long seeker

many have sought and only seen clouds

straining their hearts at every

wishful thought and every

false start gone like the waves

yet still they look to the clouds

for somewhere there is a unicorn

so are you willing seeker?

to spend your days in search of white?

and when your hair turns white

and you see yourself in every

young and youthful seeker

till sighs come out like waves

to think they might see a unicorn

while you saw only the clouds.

but did you not see in the clouds

the horn spiraling white

and feel the eyes of a unicorn

brightly shining looking back at every

believer through the ocean waves

and know that he too was a seeker?

and when at last the clouds part every

elusive white horn through the waves

of a unicorn’s mane will be before you seeker.