A single thread, for each of my friends. Each a different strength, thickness and length. I picture each differing in colour , a two-ply connection, winding onto a wooden spool. I had noticed a warping, so I stopped tugging. The winding together was slowing, They were releasing too much yarn per spin of the wheel. So I did as well to keep evenly matched, balance in all things. Wound onto the spool, I admired an artful co-operation, a beauty of the past, In completion. There is nothing left to do but smile, At the longing in my heart.