Untitled Part 78

12 1 0
                                    


She weaves her silk
Through the dark cloth
of my nights...
Skilled fingers
Work my threads
of fantasy
Her smile is embroidered
into the sackcloth
Of my life...
a perfect tapestry!

Throughout my day
I can hear her laughter echo
as the swollen brook
cascades over the rocks
and in the meadows
Of the lonely ground
I walk she walks beside me.

Tinkerbrook talesWhere stories live. Discover now