Weave, weave, weave...
from the moment sun burns night
and rays pull strings of your work,
cover marvle branches with silk breaths
Weave, weave, weave...
even though frigid winds rip your threads
with sharpened claws of iced envy
and sprawl them like discarded autumn mists
Weave, weave, weave...
although your onyx needles quiver,
the sultry air sucking your life with a kiss,
extracting tiny, pearly beads of sweat.
Weave, weave, weave... sweet Arachne
beyound the coal night with diamond stars
until lands, medows, forests and mountains
subjugate and lay defeated, ensnared in the beauty of your webs
Comments
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wow...your imagery is stunning...this is absolutly breathtaking and beautiful...blessings always...~Momma~
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Thanks Mom! You the best!
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i love what you have done with the classic tale. well written and beautiful
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Thank you, Greek mythology is a weakness to me.
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