and can almost feel it
double thread moving
through the linen dress
but I can’t really know
or see as much as that
it was written after all
it’s white Irish dresses
unless I use my eyes
to see the fingers pulling
with the beam on high
batteries sometimes low
the natural machine's on
for too long you know
sometimes strains to see
one dream that's finished
what was frayed to repair
worn upon a perfect mind
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