It's my life!

If the World were in some skeins of wool,
espied by some lonely waif,
who'd a pair of needles in hand,
and out of them her life she made,
weaving each colourful strand.

It might have been that.........
the sun's rays dappled her darting hands
and seemed to dive into those yellow strands,
the clouds that scampered across the sky
cast their shadows too on what she did ply.

Those memories in her trust......
segments of other people
were reflected in strands of bitter green
and candy pink, and streaks of smoky blue.
everything her eyes had seen,
in wool the world she drew.

An emotion did blossom red there
and experience toned it with a mature brown,
the ideals stood out in clear golden and yellow,
in bright blue was all the exhilaration she'd known.

then......
a needle slipped and the patten was marred,
a gap disrupted her life,
agonised despair in two hands
unraveled the vibrant strands,
mauled and mangled it with knife!

The sun seemed dimmer then
the birds had stilled their song,
the trees did not toss their heads
as they had done all along.

The whole had been changed somewhat,
because 'twas made of many a part,
naught can die and leave the rest unchanged.
Your Life? That is the one thing 'tis not!