Spun From A Thread

Only a whisper of silver spun from a thread of blue
Lost on a path in the dark rainy night we met
Holding our orphaned pasts like children we laughed
My medicine was a verse wrought to guile the pain
A poetic refrain, you lit a cigarette
(like a smile)
As we wove ourselves a myth of Chinese daisy chains,
Perhaps you were a lamp of life being all there was to see
We spoke in rhymes riddled with prose the perfect soliloquy
Made me suppose that we were close, closer than we knew
Only a river of silver run forever to blue.




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 745 times
Written on 2014-06-15 at 00:24

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