Sabaidee Everyone, We are writing a new poem but wanted to send these two, we wrote them in Laos at christmas and they are true stories. D+D The Weaver and The Loom The village sleeps while insects sing, we listen to their song. Its calm and quiet and wonderful, we really feel at home. Grannies snores,so musical piece the wall beside us too let us know she's there. The river breeze blows over us, our eyes begin to close then Aaron joins us in our bed disturbing our repose. annoying little bugger, he really is a pain We hold his hands and sing to him he drifts away in sleep. We hear a sound above his breath, the loom is being used. As the family sleeps a weaver works. Mother always loved her loom, she used it day and night so many times we went to sleep, to its rhythmic thumping tune. We walk towards the loom, so quiet the weaver does not hear us. Her hair is shining black, it reaches down to sweep the floor, momma sat like that. We move around to see her face, tears they mist our eyes. Our mother weaves and moves the loom, a rhythm that we know. Looking up from the cloth she weaves, our favorite colour blue a single tear descends her face, then she disappears. The night goes on, we fall asleep, to uneasy dreams. Our momma she was here, we cant think what it means. Each night we watch and listen to see if she returns. Granny asks us what is wrong. "I hear you every night." We tell her of the weaver, the gentle weeping soul. She smiles and nods, saying "Don't look for her my boys she's here with you always." "where." we ask in unison angry at her smile. "In your hearts and in your heads, she is your mother see. For you she leaves the river, her love has conquered the river. A mothers love brings her from the river, to see her little boys. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Sadness Bright colours and gay laughter fill the night as people dance and sing. There is no falseness in their dance no hypocrisy in their song. They never dress in Nike. They don't drive fancy cars, yet they seem so happy something must be wrong yet their always happy in our mothers land. Computers cloths and fancy cars, are things we leave at home. The party goes on though the night and we are very tired. So we sleep and dream our dreams of living here in Laos. So much will change."our Uncle says. "before you two are men. The west will find a market here, for so many terrible things. They'll sell so much to Laos, the people they will pay with the songs they sing from their hearts and the dance that comes from their souls. Western education, will make them western men They will forget that they are Lao, They'll be like all the rest."