Ostrich feather-duster in hand, she delicately dusted the cobwebs in her mind.
Rainbows caught in webs woven over the years.
Some taut some giving way to to the erosion of time,
Each colour reflecting a shade of the past.
Memories delicately woven,
Some so fragile a whisper in the wind could destroy,
Waiting for a gust of wind or thunder storm to blow them into oblivion.
Waiting for a gust of wind or thunder storm to blow them into oblivion.
No comments:
Post a Comment