beautifully embroidered traycloths and treasures of yore.
My nose inhales their musty scent evocative of a bygone age,
I admire the hours of work that has gone into them, I imagine
the stories they could tell.
I squirrel them away in the cupboard.
Silas Marner like, at night I dream of the value.
Gold coins running through my fingers.
In my dreams I plan, I scheme of all the glorious things
I will make.
I cut, I style, I snip............NO!
How could I?
Back into the cupboard they go...
Silas would be proud!