The Tailor
Wind was chasing clouds on high,
Tore a single leaf to flight,
Nothing held it in the trim,
Calling it to follow him.
Silk thread on the fabric blue
Stitched a pattern, fine and rare,
Sequins for the cloudy hue,
Rainbows for the sun’s gold hair.
Evening leans the shadows long,
Daylight rays have gone away,
Breezes sleep and winds are blown,
Night’s dream-blanket hides the day
