The Thread

Nona spun a thread for me.

I sat and watched her heedlessly.

I trusted her implicitly.

I watched her sister cut it there

While I sat back and had a beer.

 

I did not know

That they would make for me

A garland of repose

And not the wreath of victory.

Reviews

[Ruth]

Unsettling in a mystical way! Great poem, concise and powerful! xx