worlds we weave winsome with words

yarns of yearning or spurn spinning

a thread here, or there, some lead to wear

worn tails of a sugar-coat or an evening gown

candy-floss on the coast, or the sun in purple prose

you just dipped your toes 

  silent reeds that stalk the stream

studying this craft, hovering

on that current your own thoughts unravel

this tapestry adrift draft

now yours, that tie and dye scenting

in sombre shades those sunny tints

interwoven between 

the writing 

ampersand

 the reading

whose senses making some sense

hieroglyph these your papyrus 

thus it could be

this your very own-ed verse