You enchantingly craft your words…,
… gems that thrill our hearts.
Rather effortlessly, it seems,
You bend over your tureen,
Humming and thumbing your well-worn needle.
You squint and adjust your focals,
Shake the bowl in unspoken incantation,
You single out this stone, and set it by that one.
You stir the bowl again and pick another, then another,
And time. Stands. Still.
And when your rune finally ends
You tie all lose ends.
Defying all sense – you’ve mothered utter magnificence!
Then you package it like the treasure it is and push send.
My heart leaps at the notification,
Your happy picture lights up my screen.
I know that when I untie that silken ribbon,
Without fail, your words will take my breath away.
I’ll be grabbed by the gleam, the glint, the glimmer;
I’ll follow the flare, the flash, the flicker;
And frolic enraptured in glorious glee.
And my reading them over and over again
Twirls them faster and faster, arcane,
Leading the dizzying dance with abandon,
Prowess, and grace, and magnificent passion!
So write more
And more, my friend. Your gifting is like a whirlwind,
Currently harnessed and only let out a slight whisper at a time.
But when your needle touches a stone,
I espy a tiny spark and hear the howling roar within…
For my dear friend Amanda, who is reluctant to write…
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