The Tailor's Scheme

THE TAILOR'S SCHEME

Snippety-snip,

The scissors cut through

Bundles of cotton, satin and denims blue.

Five small dresses of identical hue,

Identical fabric, identical sizes too!

Five small dresses for five girls aged 22,

Of varied tempers, varied virtues - ah!

And varied sizes too!

Round and round goes the spinning wheel,

Stitching shirts and skirts is no ordeal.

In gossips and stories lies the real appeal -

Whose mother's a witch? Whose husband's a steal?

Spinning, weaving and twirling a reel,

Crafting, creating, contriving a spiel.

In these hands of thimbles and needles of steel

Are nimble yarns ready to be revealed.

And in the Third Act the tailor sits pleased,

Gazing at the dresses - perfect, without grease!

He curls his lip to reveal his disease

As he snips at the threads lying at his knees.

Tattered and frayed they're lost in the breeze,

Years of woven knots, undone with such ease!

Snippety-snip - their souls are now seized,

Lost and defeated by the Devil and his schemes.

- Maryam Kaleem

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Learning to Breathe

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