With apologies to Simon and Garfunkel
Hello Torchon, my old friend
I’ve come to work with you again
Because the rhythm softly beating
Of bobbins parting and then meeting
And the vision of a pattern in my brain
Within the sounds of bobbins.
And the people bowed and prayed
To the ornate lace they made
But I cried to the departed
Don’t forget just where you started
For the basic patterns are written on every page
For every age
And whispered in the sounds of bobbins.
The Angle, NSW, Australia