Because we’ve known no other

way since our forebears grew

big brained and industrious,


here we are …


You with your tapestries

blowing in the wind

trying to turn the heads

of tourists who can’t tell

Handmade Hungarian

from run of the mill

rest of the world.


Neighbouring the basilica,

you understand location.


From a distance

your finely embroidered linen

looks like anybody’s washing

drying on the only fine day

predicted for the week


and really you could be

holding anything up to the light,

it’s a magic mirror

we’re after every time,

an antidote to snow globes

and fridge magnets,

a way through lacklustre

to genuine reflection …


So here we are –


you with your tapestries

blowing in the wind,

me with my balloons of words …