Old Basket

I have been weaved by pure talent
Bound by the genius of minds
Smooth but rough
Once was a field of grass for then I was rough
and grass with a mix of love which makes strength
some people can make me just right
but some people can't. Its just the way it goes
North East, South West, anyway the path will go
You will never know.
You might think I am just a basket
but I’m so much more.