Looking at that family tree.
Strung far and wide in Macrame.
Caught in a complex web of lies.
From yesterdays.
Those that went before, running into today.
There are good ones and bad ones.
Families that is.
Sometimes even rather sad ones.
The mother who slept with the father,
Who, then flipped to the uncle, who created who?
A rhetorical question.
Julie- Ann, she then discovered that she had an unknown brother.
The family love stretched far and wide, as at times the family members were denied.
Love to be close to recent ones, the family setting as the sun.
The draped macrame still hangs full of holes, stretched from bough to bow.
And darling sister was still a cow.
The son will always shine, an orb of of light after the darkness.
(C) Livvi