Tapestry

THE TAPESTRY Out of time that's long forgotten, in a light that's yet unknown, you could see me in the morning, I would be there, but alone weaving tapestries from fibers of someone who'd never guess, she was part of dreams and visions and somebody's happiness. But she would know someone was there. He'd touch her now if he would dare. And she would know that he was there. There's a story and it's Celtic, we must love all things, to see how a raindrop loves the flower, but the flower loves a bee, in the tapestry I'm weaving, I have told this story well, and the dreams she is a part of, is the other tale I tell. She knows someone has touched her mind. And he is there for her to find. And she is always on his mind. It's a love beyond a question, but a love that's out of place, out of time and out of reason but unable to erase, in the tapestry I'm weaving there's no differences to see, she is rising from the ocean to a love once meant to be. And she has known a love that's good. Though it is never understood. But she'll remember love is good. © ron wilson