Post by Sheila Widdershins on Feb 21, 2007 13:58:30 GMT -1
Fantasy Satin
Weaving insanity like a maddening
rustic satin that’s coarse to the touch,
just weaving it on and on, weaving too much—
waning hope resists,
the smoky sky persists in
my mind tonight… going
is all I do, and coming behind me is
the memory… but it’s so shy… like
a diamond sky colored with brilliant light
to drown out the blackness of night’s hoard
smashing down telescopes to deplore… even more…
than before. I reach out to as it begins to cry, to
comfort it, but it draws back into enigma
to wipe its face dry… so funnily does it hide
as by its secretive rules I abide and withdraw
my hand, sheath my bursting spite…
no, the hour is not late enough to shun darkness into light.
We reach for our fantasy, but it’s so dazzling
I have to admit defeat before it, unraveling
my fantasy satin…
Weaving insanity like a maddening
rustic satin that’s coarse to the touch,
just weaving it on and on, weaving too much—
waning hope resists,
the smoky sky persists in
my mind tonight… going
is all I do, and coming behind me is
the memory… but it’s so shy… like
a diamond sky colored with brilliant light
to drown out the blackness of night’s hoard
smashing down telescopes to deplore… even more…
than before. I reach out to as it begins to cry, to
comfort it, but it draws back into enigma
to wipe its face dry… so funnily does it hide
as by its secretive rules I abide and withdraw
my hand, sheath my bursting spite…
no, the hour is not late enough to shun darkness into light.
We reach for our fantasy, but it’s so dazzling
I have to admit defeat before it, unraveling
my fantasy satin…
July 31, 2006
