Tapestry - Mary O'Hara

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue

An everlasting vision of the ever-changing view

A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold

A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold

Once, amid the soft, silver sadness in the sky

There came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by

He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leathered hide

And a coat of many colors, yellow, green on either side

He moved with some uncertainty, as if he didn’t know

Just what he was there for, or where he ought to go

Once he reached for something golden, hanging from a tree

And his hand came down empty

Soon within my tapestry, along the rutted road

He sat down on a river rock and turned into a toad

It seemed that he had fallen into someone’s wicked spell

And I wept to see him suffer, though I didn’t know him well

As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared

A figure, gray and ghostly, beneath a flowing beard

In times of deepest darkness, I’ve seen him dressed in black

Now my tapestry’s unraveling; he’s come to take me back

He’s come to take me back