viernes, 4 de octubre de 2013

She works

I like the way she works. I love to see her working, because she can't see me when I do. She works with patience, she works in silence, her gaze staring at the spinning wheel. There is nothing else in her life, but her work is not slavery, it's an effort to clean herself, to become better, to deserve what she desires. She's worthy, she deserves the best, she gets her hands dirty but doesn't need to pray with them.


I'm sure someday she will reach happiness. She's more like a steady spider, with so many hard-working hands and eyes, who weaves her web only some inches above the ground in hope to catch a falling star in it: her unique and true desire, because her happiness is only in herself.

1 comentario:

  1. She traps children's books,
    she doesn't let them to escape.
    "You mustn't enter my dome
    'til my job is done".

    She bites and poisons,
    she's a widow of life
    because life is no work.

    But in the end she will leave
    being an angry fiend.
    She will wear the dress she had made,
    and I'll still be her friend.

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