Soft light, fine threads.

imageHer fine flaxen fibers weave through this house,

tracing her mythology in my mind,

one soft strand at a time,

every wisp whispering silently from the corners of this cold cavern.

But her strands need not appear,

they need not tangle into my own tresses,

they are here,

they are woven in your tapestry.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s