Predictable

Crocheting needles waved her fingers from a self-disclosed mind Texture and pattern set lines like predictive text and autocorrect Wool over her eyes would know how to stitch up her soul-scape No matter whether blanket or poncho woollen hat or jacket The mood flowed straight out of her heart onto a regular weave Honest and reliable she stuck close to unwavering tales of revelation Charlotte needed no words to dispense the right yarn at the corner shop The vendor knew what type of fabric to part with each day at the outlet Just a glance onto Kerry Anne’s undisguised posture was sufficient To offer nothing but suitable material for day’s tedium or happiness It felt good or bad or nothing at all not having to explain herself For a friend is a companion who understands and accepts quietude Black and grey mixed with various shades of dark coal and anthracite Almost indiscernible from each other but matching loss fear and despair And ravens would ride on colourless horses into thunder bar lightning Grim reapers would mount feeble witches on the way to the stakes So fast that predictable cataclysms held neither surprise nor reprieve Foregrounds and backdrops merged into lonely tears shed onto clouds Sometimes though Kerry Anne was given purple orange and crimson To match her hippie clothes crafted in insatiable outburst of passion Bright suns and unicorns would swing from prism bow’s crescents And sure as heaven on canvas Peace Signs shouted liberation and love Indelible and lasting for another short finite forever of ephemeral moments In which brief tastes of uplifting insanity would again say a final farewell Cashmere and mohair were reserved for rare occasions which felt soft And embracingly soothing like a lover’s caress spent on silk sheets Which soaked up moist lips’ exuberance and exuded fragrant pursuit And yet as predictable as rusty thumbscrews in a chamber of horrors Charlotte purveyed rough untreated cotton as she catered for descent And threw in wood shavings and metal clips to harden certitude and pain It was always difficult to look at another days’ impenetrable output When moods and emotions felt ever so removed from the moment Those brief turning points of a pendulum inevitable nevertheless In which Kerry Anne plied with invisible wool on translucent hooks And Charlotte had to make a quick decision which threshold to cross But in a blink of an eye the two women assured a foreseeable trade 03rd December 2019