My father's clothes are lifeless now.
They hang limply on the wall.
I had about a million questions.
There'll be no answer to them all.
My mother died years ago.
She just went on ahead,
They wove a life upon this earth,
'Till they ran out of thread.
I took their ends and tied them tight
To the thread that I had to spin
And I'll continue with the weaving
Until my life is at its end.
I hope that my child finds my thread
And ties it tight for me,
For this is how we all create,
Life's beautiful tapestry.
by James Walk