Life is a gambling for many.
She is a Penelope , ardently
stitching and undoing the knots ;
the slender threads testing her
Patience, eyes compete with
her toiling hands, a handful of
cuts and threads and distorted
knots beside her sewing machine:
for her it is survival, for many
it is a gambling , her life gambling,
she saw not their hearts, they sought
cash or kind would replace kindness,
a post modern irksome paradox,
this gambling goes on ;
there, the predator growls , snarls,
here, she drinks a cup of porridge
to suffice her flat tummy,
her next session in the sewing
machine beckons her. Her spirit
gathers and removes the cuts
and knots for a better morrow.
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