Sudden breath sends a tremor;
we roil, as a squall of notes
on a lyre. Venetian gold
beads of life, strung on wires,
spun of her being. She waits;
in the stillness, her jewelsong
reforms. Hub to her world,
on a net of her dreams.
minor edit 28.08.09
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Comments
sunshine | August 28, 2009 - 22:19
Well done - I'd never have thought have anything to say in response to this photo. Margot
lenchenelf | August 29, 2009 - 07:18
Thanks Margot, it helped that I'd seen something like it in the garden earlier this year, though with my eyesight, they looked like tiny grains of sand :-) all the best Lenax