Time and death
are shadows,
emotional threads,
of thought
darker, emptier
than the
shadows
they throw
A silent venom
that spins
a web
weaving dreams
from moonbeams
that vanish
like dew
in the dawn
©Rose
She thought of him~
all night long
she spun a web of
her finest silk
and then
waited for him
She watched him~
all day long
she dreamed of him
her hero with
beautiful wings
The sound of him
hypnotised her
she rushed to meet him
shrouding him in sheets
of her finest silk
Now he was all hers
he had never noticed her
if only she had wings
she could fly with him
amongst the flowers
©Rose
with gossamer thread
faceless angles
harness the moon
harvesting moonbeams
to string their harps
©
Rose
