I turn the tapestry over to see
the carefully wrought knots,
dangling, shaggy threads,
the bumps and nubs
and the smooth sections
where it went well:

all you did, all you tried
to create,
so painstakingly,
such beauty.

You signed your name in chalk
on the back.
I can barely make out the letters but
I read your name,
and say it aloud
to myself
knowing you are there
behind it all,

still stitching,
still knotting.

I love your work, this side
the most.