Double doors swing inwards by hands
unseen. All eyes drawn up to the gallery.
A high ceiling framed either side by
ragged tapestries of noble love and ignoble wars.
The box room with barely space to stand
beside the silent loom, with threads still
caught in motion. Everyone walks slowly along
taking nothing far away. Knowing something beyond.
A surreptitious movement, smaller each time,
on a hidden staircase and furtive expression
lost to yet another generation,
behind too many layers of wallpaper.
The original inspiration for this poem came from Charlotte Strong with the words “ragged, loom, surreptitious”.