There the phoenix lies alone
resting where it might have flown
waiting for her magic yarn
to make her truly whole.
Lacy scarf of leafy vine
fashioned from the hempy twine
wonders how the phoenix waits,
resists the mild cajole.
"Why will you not rise" quoth he,
"to show off your complexity?
Your lovely hues and lacy stitch
will win admiring stares."
"T'is fine if you stay put, I hear,"
said scarf of silky wool in sneer,
"You're much too large, of awkward shape
to be much fun to wear."
"A shame that you must wait in pause,
whilst I be one to take applause
since I am ready to be worked,"
the sock yarn mocks aloud.
"A week or two, I'll be complete,
and you must take the second seat
since you have far too much to go
to make your maker proud."
The phoenix sighs, but isn't glum,It ain't Homer, but he couldn't knit anyway.
with knowledge of the day to come
when yarn arrives to match her wings
from online shop of yore.
"In time," she says, "I'll rise from here,
I'll be complete, and they will cheer.
I'll wait and dream of future days
when I can truly soar."