A Thread of Strands!
A Thread of Strands!
Picking a random thread and waiting for a ladder to run,
Riding the carousel of the inner shell – purely for the fun!
Music dances with rhythm and melody – the joy of sound,
Lowering defences – strumming the senses –all within the round!
A Wood Pigeon coo – coo – cooing – to the arrival of the dawn,
Embracing the warmth of life’s contentment – growing with the morn!
A well-remembered thought rebounding in circles – makes it to the page,
Journeying far through the land of sleep – and returning to the stage!
Strands re-united with the capture of time and woven into a thread,
Mixing in the elements with the sum of ingredients – somewhere in my head!
The hermit in lockdown he shuffles his words – with a dealing of the deck,
Picking up the reins – its surging through my veins and causing me a pain in the neck!
Conundrums and riddles they fall by the wayside – picking up the pace,
A connection to the past and its teaching adventures – adding lines upon my face!
Wrestling the rigging of the mental cobwebs – picture a vision in your mind,
A streaming energy and glowing light – who knows what you’ll find!
Drawing from the well we share in experience – drinking the drink of life,
Dipping a toe in the flow of momentum – memory echoes constant – running rife!
The smoke it smoulders and drifts on the air – smoke-ring thoughts they sail away,
Is it so weird – to sit and stroke at my beard – and watch the words at play!
Trails of exploration – line up at the station – to breath in the steam of the train,
Riding on the foot-plate – adding fuel to the fire – there and back again!
Traversing the tunnels and lost in thought – with the windows and their views,
In fact and fiction – a dedicated affliction – as we catch up with the news!
Painting description as it greets the horizons – with a palette dripping wet,
The fields of the familiar – guarding the avenue’s rise and fall – not so easy to forget!
The mountains and hills in my aging stills – full of inspiration – now as then,
A re-introduction with an ancient pathway – my spirit returns to where and when!
So I pull the strings and tighten the seams – casting off at the end of my thread,
Draped in the cloak of the blackness of nightfall – as I ready my creep to bed!
Contemplation lingers in fading reflection – as I yawn my way to sleep,
At the end of the day – comes the end of the page – with a woven thread to keep!
