I saw an old lady with the wrinkled face
Her thin, long fingers at work, holding the needle
Weaving a pattern effortlessly, focused, quiet
Doing embroidery she learnt from her mother
Continue with the legacy of her ancestors
I went close and asked the price of the finished product
She smiled and said, “Pay me what you feel best quoted”.
I was taken aback by her generosity, what an artist!
She wasn’t rich and could’ve asked more from affluent customers, roaming over there
Yet she quietly put the ball in our court to judge and appreciate her art.
Reason for not her quoting the price, her art was priceless in her opinion,
She could never sell in less, and if she asked more, people had just left
It was just for her living that she came out of her house and decided to sell
I stood speechless and felt really small in front of her, she was poor but far richer than us
Without talking more I quickly closed the deal, she couldn’t hide her happiness, I could see
Spangle with pride, she took the money, packed a beautiful blouse, handed it over to me
I returned the remaining amount as a token of appreciation, and not as a tip
To be honest, the garment was quite a sensation wherever I wore it.
Remember to honour the talent as much as you can as it speaks on the behalf of an artist.