Once, I wanted to be a weaver.
A weaver weaves their time,
between warp and woof,
spins the thread, dyes it the colour.
Textile is their time and their story.
Now, I play with my words, instead.
I weave my letters and phrases,
manipulate its warp and woof,
spin the alphabet, weave into my books.
It’s my story, it’s my history.