Yearned Yarn of a Needle

Swinging from fabric to fabric is my obsession,
Entwining from rustic to rustic is my maid’s profession.

Crowning in thy silky fabric is my passion,
Drowning in thy silky fabric is my maid’s fashion. 

I am embossed in flowery threads like rosary beads,
Yet I am engrossed in jittery feeds like watery weeds.

I am lost to a lad in the nearby street,
Yet I am frost to a lad in the nearby greet.

Once used for embroidery in fabric, thence used for jugglery in tragic.
Once sewed for revelry in magic, thence used for chivalry in frolic.

Yet I am cheery to rock with the lad’s frantic music.