Silent skies spin silvered dreams,
Unbidden memories split silver seams;
Silver hair crowns ancient head,
Knowledge the treasure, and silver the thread.
Silver-spun cells of gossamer thought,
threaded on breeze-blossoms, skilfully wrought;
whispers of whirlwind, fairy-frost food,
share your sweet secret – how do you stay glued?
Delicate membranes with hearts on your sleeve,
barely there brainstorm, a brittle-crisp weave –
filmy exquisite, in raiment of lace,
what holds you together while running your race?
How ironic that such beauty is to be found in the weak places…can it be that we, in our humanity, in our very fragility, are beautiful?
Ever the bridesmaid,
third wheel –
the Lover of your Soul
paints you beautiful,
veils you in Murano lace,
drapes your shoulders with diamonds,
parades you before your peers,
dressed head to toe in