How is that when I grind your dried bodies up and steep them in my distilled water, three times over, you can make my heart sing as you do?
How is that when you're added to a pot of hot simmering water, you can make my legs go weak?
I could bleed your love and die a hundred deaths just to have you near me.
Oh fuchsia, dance with me. Let's tango together.
And then rest with me in the sun. And we'll let our dreadlocks intertwine.
Just come with me, my spinning wheel is right in here.
How do I love thee?
I cannot count the ways.
Dear Cochineal Bug, will you be mine?
Does red yarn justify murder?
ReplyDeleteI'm hoping to get a good shade of black when my dog dies. Waste not...want not.
ReplyDeleteRepeat after me:
ReplyDelete"I, Merry Alpacafurdyer,
Take you, O Cochineal Bug,
To be my Bugfriend;
To have and to scald,
From this day forward,
For redder, for worse,
For richer, for purer,
In thickness and in depth,
To love and to spin,
Until we both shall dye."
PERFECT!
ReplyDeleteThat is awesome...my knitting fingers were twitching as I looked at the lovely fiber! Kim
ReplyDelete