OVER a slow-dying fire, <br /> Dreaming old dreams, I am sitting; <br />The flames leap up and expire; <br /> A woman sits opposite knitting. <br />I’ve taken a Fate to wife; <br /> She knits with a half-smile mocking <br />Me, and my dreams, and my life, <br /> All into a worsted stocking. <br /><br /><br />Victor James Daley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lachesis/
