a Poem I wrote about String

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I wrote this waiting for church to begin one Sunday morning:
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A piece of string
is a wonderful thing;
a snake that binds and wraps.
A tool so neat.
A tool complete.
It ties, it winds, it snaps.

A piece of string
is a curious thing;
it's life a marv'lous double.
With a pull, it's taut.
With a push, it's naught
but a wriggly worm of a stubble.

With levers and planes
one hardly complains.
Their life is mechanical ease.
With windlass and screw,
it's clear what they do.
But string is always a tease.

It may frazzle, unravel
or slip as it travels.
Knots can be so unkind in that way.
But through every storm,
string's sinuous charm,
maintains and endures every day.