It's Not Just An Old Woven Mat

It used to lie,
Collecting no dust,
Upon a shelf
Comforting plinth of treasures.

With value of gold to some,
others nothing at all.
Woven of cream cotton.
Tight and precise,
of talent not recognised today.

‘Come inside I’ll show you’’…

From one hand to another,
a heirloom is passed down.
The young holding it in her hands,
As if she was holding the meaning of life

‘It can’t get lost if you keep it safe’

Today it lays
collecting dust,
upon another shelf
left untouched.