Material Life Poem by Lyndsey Gillett

Embroidery threads strewn,
With wool all across my room,
This is how I work,
Organisation berserk,
Yes later everything can be put away,
But a bombsight in progress is how it will stay,
I like to be able to view it all,

I see all the colours they blend into one,
Temporary, one day they'll be gone,
Strange to think hard work will wilt,
But won't mean any less,
Holes will pierce right through my labour,
Then eventually through the body of me and my neighbour,

The fleeting nature of the fabric,
Is somewhat disturbing but mostly magic,
I like it, but if I didn't, It's all we have,
Paper scattered on the floor,
Dust particles move as I close the door,
Clothes pile up on the bed posts,
Things I use and things I don't,

Slowly but surely my disorganisation fades,
The passion of creating something stays,
Even if you know it isn't permanent.