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grant-coxPoems
A single strand, it weaves itself around the empty space that circumvents my alarm clock. The monotonous noise reminding me of the day's responsibilities overshadowed instantly by a thread. A piece of you, an accidental gift more personal than breath. Things unintentional are more severe than those thought and poured over. Delicate and strong, this proteinacious silk stands up to the rigors of my examination. A tangible illustration of your life, now, with me, no one  can have that but me. In reality more precious than words or emotions that you would offer freely. This piece of time, that you have let slip from your grasp, only to settle on my nightstand. The gift of a person, a soul, cannot be matched by any other. This is what we live for, what we hang on to, a single thread.
0
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:17 AM UTC
An Accidental Gift
A single strand, it weaves itself around the empty space that circumvents my alarm clock. The monotonous noise reminding me of the day's responsibilities overshadowed instantly by a thread. A piece of you, an accidental gift more personal than breath. Things unintentional are more severe than those thought and poured over. Delicate and strong, this proteinacious silk stands up to the rigors of my examination. A tangible illustration of your life, now, with me, no one  can have that but me. In reality more precious than words or emotions that you would offer freely. This piece of time, that you have let slip from your grasp, only to settle on my nightstand. The gift of a person, a soul, cannot be matched by any other. This is what we live for, what we hang on to, a single thread.
Written by
grant-cox
English
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:17 AM UTC
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