Sewing room ablaze wuth sunlight - <br />her curly brown locks aglow, <br />she bends over crocheted seams, <br />lost in dreams of a blissful life - <br />she threads red roses and whispers <br />to herself in the dreamy silence: <br />'O what joy to be a loving wife! ' <br /> <br />The sharp needle pierces her finger - <br />real life intrudes with rude pain, <br />red droplets blossom and linger <br />on the embroidered fabric, marked <br />as though with a prescient thought - <br />dreams dissipate, a future marred. <br />The sewing room darkens and she nods.<br /><br />Michael Pruchnicki<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epiphany-in-red/
