for Winnie

I will attempt to tie a few knots in your drifting threads.

DROPS of PAIN

Where are the tears of yesterday’s joy,
and laughter at life memories’ pain?
A man’s pride can endure quick release
in cathartic most public display,
but only in disguising poetry
can I now merge teared soul-seeds
with drops of rain in life’s rebirth.

my friend --
daughter of friendship’s kiss;
but a tree rooted in Mother Earth
and aspiring to spirit’s reach,

within and beyond
reach out through the loom
and pass the shuttle to me.

faucon