Sonnet 18: Tapestry of Quills

In between what time's hands have swept across
Lies a fragment of that one memory
The gears in their vain attempt to be free
Rusted shut to delay the threading loss

Before I rest tonight I'll lay waiting
'Til his arrival marked by lulling song
Waking hours to surrender not for long
Slumber by silvery feathers' brushing

And when the rays claw through the drapery
Kept safe in his smile is a good morning
Waking up to soft melodious humming
Bathing me with sun-melted ear-candy

To sway towards where his wind-spun wings go
A pendant hanging by his breathing soul



July 18th