your words,
sweet poetess.
are a quiet moment,
admist the clamour
of this hell.

sweet surcease,
in sibilant syllables
and my mind's release
to silent woods.

to sit, to cease,
the worrying.
time,
to calm,
the malestrom mind.

so, for this, sweet poetess.
i praise ye,
for your words
and marvel at
your embroidory,
that stitches me
back together
line by beautiful line.