Author's Note: This poem was the winner of a poetry challenge at Parma Eruseen and was nominated for "Best Poem" in the Parma Awards. Thanks to everyone who took the time to review and encourage me; you can't imagine how much I appreciate it.


Weaver, weaver, shall you not weep?
Around your seat the shadows creep.
Your heart is empty, your love is gone,
But secretly, silently, you weave on.

Weaver, weaver, what do you trust?
Men go to war, as all men must,
And women weep: so should it be;
But your hands weave on steadily.

Weaver, weaver, what does this mean?
If he is King, you shall be Queen.
But if he falls, you cannot stay
To weave your broken heart away.

Weaver, weaver, what shall you do?
Your love is gone, but you are true:
You weave and weave until at last
The shadows fly or doom has passed.

Weaver, weaver, what have you there?
"A banner for my love to bear."
You cry at last, and I too weep
For the daughter I cannot keep.