Stitched in glittering black rows along a shawl,

Sewn in sparkling midnight-blue splendour on an evening gown,

Embelishing a top with silver,

They sell them in packets,

They sell them in jars,

Shining with a million tiny sun-reflections,

Shimmering on the craft-shop's display window,

Someday they will be part of something wonderful.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed