Monday, February 16, 2009
Strange the threads of letters, posted
in fragile hope of weaving durable blankets,
and if perchance shared – like the tinkly laughter
of children under a supper table.
A stitch is dropped, the weft twisted,
and yardage runs short the lengths required
of a fort fit for the giggles – and the solemn craft
of lonely spinning begins again.
© 2008 Marcy Stoeckel
Posted by Marcy at 11:34 AM