David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
The eye of the needle
All the needles sitting to attention in the packet
Waiting for you to pick one with the biggest eye
Their shiny coat glistens in the bright day,
Their fine lines waiting to be caressed.
Brightly coloured cotton reels of differing sizes
In the sewing box like a multi coloured painters
Palette. A rainbow of colours both big and small
Roll around the box.
You select one reel and run your fingers through
The packet of needles, looking for the right one.
The one that you can see that you can thread
The cotton through – but Arrghh – C’est impossible.
Needle in one hand, cotton in the other, you spend
Ten minutes squinting at the eye of the needle
Trying to thread the cotton. The cotton brushes
Over the eye but alas, it passes along side.
Life can be a bit like threading cotton through the
Eye of a needle. You look at a problem yet the eyes
Deceive and you lose the thread. Only patience prevails
In this uncertain world. Patience and perseverance.
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