New reply from Susan Katz
<p>I really like this poem. I like the message. I like the way you "spin" your story through a series of beautifully crafted images: "…</p>
<p>sometimes she blotted them grey</p>
<p>her tears kissed the earth</p>
<p>leaving behind her scent and bow</p>
<p>people called it rain…"</p>
<p>Each of your images works and creates a beautiful "picture" for us, a lovely reality that we can connect with (sunset, rain, sunrise, night sky) – well done. I would like to feature this poem in my "Poem of the Week" section, in about three weeks. Let me know if that would work for you. I have been working on a poem and newsletter that deals with "The People I Love" – and I think this poem would fit beautifully into that theme.</p>
<p>Thank you so much for sharing this lovely poem with me,</p>
<p>Susan</p>
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https://poetladykatz.com/poetry-talk/an-angel-and-her-embroidery
Original Post by Riya Jaiswal
an angel and her embroidery
<p>My grandma always sang me to sleep</p>
<p> </p>
<p> "there lived an angel in the cerulean sky</p>
<p> wove sapphire yarns embroidered with</p>
<p> lilac, pink and crimson fleece</p>
<p> people called it sunset</p>
<p> </p>
<p> sometimes she blotted them grey</p>
<p> her tears kissed the earth</p>
<p> leaving behind her scent and bow</p>
<p> people called it rain</p>
<p> </p>
<p> every dawn, birds twittered her a visit </p>
<p> rooster hailed cock-a-doodle-doo</p>
<p> so merrily she embroidered them golden</p>
<p> breathed tender breeze swaying trees</p>
<p> people called it sunrise"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>one night my grandma sang herself to sleep</p>
<p>her woven neverland forever lost</p>
<p>until I became a grandma and sang</p>
<p> </p>
<p> "there lived an angel in the cerulean sky</p>
<p> embroidered with silver and multitudes </p>
<p> of orbs tucked in constellations</p>
<p> people called it night sky…"</p>
<p> </p>
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