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TAPESTRY Carole King My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue; an everlasting vision of the ever-changing view. A wonderous, woven magic in bits of blue and gold a tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold. Once amid the soft, silver sadness in the sky there came a man of fortune, a drifter passing by. He wore a torn and tattered cloth around his leathered hide; and a coat of many colors, yellow-green on either side. He moved with some uncertainty as if he didn't know; just what he was there for, or where he ought to go. Once he reached for something, golden hanging from a tree and his hand came down empty.... Soon within my tapestry along the rugged road; he sat down on a river rock and turned into a toad. It seemed that he had fallen into someone's wicked spell; and I wept to see him suffer, though I didn't know him well. As I watched in sorrow, there suddenly appeared a figure gray and ghostly beneath the flowing beard in times of deepest darkness I've seen him dressed in black; now my tapestry's unraveling, he's come to take me back. He's come to take me back.


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