Silkstream to Neverland

Streams after streams of silk, you knitted -
Like a solemn harpist.
Strings followed strings, hands followed hands:
Your fingers moved as though to play chords
Sad enough to bring tears, yet feigning happiness.

Your hands shook, as though possessed by Sorrow -
I wonder how you knitted with them
When you wept and quivered like so?
It flowed: perhaps a tapestry of your dreams
Bound to the cold of your endless shiver...

As you rowed all the way to Neverland
On your thin streams of silk.