Dancing on silver lines of moonlight
She spins and turns, back and forth
Weaving together threads as thin
As whispers on the wind
No music plays,
Yet she dances,
Moving with the gentle grace
Of a practiced ballerina
Her work is truly a show,
Something worthy of watching
Beauty captured and spun
Into something tangible, a home
At last, a web of intricate design
Is splayed between the tree limbs
And there she lies
Resting in the middle
Having finished her work
And taken her bows
She sits amidst the grandness of her creation
The glorious centerpiece
That makes the rest shine brighter
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryJust some poems I wrote and felt like sharing *Credit to the original owners for the artwork!*
