Story Weaver
a click of knitting needles
multicolored strands take shape
horizons, seas, veins
a road map of ink, stretching
across the page
pulsating variations
of blue
make me weep
how unexpected
to find the scarf here
on a shelf
in a small town coffee shop
labeled “Gypsy Scarf”
enticing, it shakes out waves
they tumble, roll, turn into
bed sheets
warmed by dim-lit candles
two bodies move in, out, around
each other
I wear the “Gypsy Scarf” around my neck
hold its story
yarn after yarn
woven
into life’s
colorful threads
***
My wish for You
to see
the book you have written yourself into
stories of life, choices made,
loves, loss
no regrets for the ones that do not work out
better to live, some say, than dream
faraway places hold adventure treasures,
find a book that suits you, with lots of pages,
blank, waiting to hold your story
write with pens of different colors, gels and glitter,
soft shades for the passions you dive into,
get half way in and retreat
write about your lovers, those who stay awhile
and those you wave goodbye to more quickly,
thank them for the good times as you leave,
down a new path, new direction
carefree, just knowing you desire change
gypsy hearts wander, pack stories into a well worn journal
leave me wishing it were my life
pens of color trailing down my book pages* * *
Composition
on the highway driving to work
I compose
with each rotation of the tires
a line is born
the distant sunrise
awakens
an orchestra
plays my poem
it rises to the trumpet
of early morning
a crescendo
the horn of the truck startles
as I cross the highway midline
my poem
screeches its tires
swerves back
to its own lane
fixes itself
on the road
the music
gone