The Steam Engine

only a middle age women
can completely disapprove
with a glance

the weight of the earth
tugs at her mouth
while her limpid eyes scan
dully back and forth

the boy screamed emphatically
searching for approval

it can crush a mass of metal like wax!
lift ships of war like bubbles!
a treasure of the working world!

yet still she idles
fiddling her feeble fingers
glancing at the branches of a faraway tree
whose leaves hung
like the paws of begging dogs

the steam engine threads
gossamer strands in the sky

the woman threads
cotton on her tired loom.