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Arianna Mar 2
The spider above my bed
Catches dreams in her web.

She weaves them into blankets
While I sleep at night,

Spinning the vaguest of threads
Into vivid sunsets
Of orange, yellow and red;

Weaving the wildest daydreams
Into the gentlest streams
Of blue, purple, and green.

Wrapped in this funeral shroud of dreaming,
Consciousness inverts,

And all the while,
She is weaving, weaving,

Until at dawn these dreams
To dust return.
The spider is actually under my bed...
Johnny walker Feb 26
I'm Weaving a pathway through my mind I'm
finding a way through
a vast array of memories
stored In
there
Wonderful times I spent with my sweetheart of
days we won't have again
all gone In what seemed like blink of
eye
So many memories stored In my head not one do I ever regret memorable moment always cherished
for never will they fade In my head they will
stay
Weaving a pathway through my head to where so many
memories do lie and to where they remain In my head
Johnny walker Feb 22
The last few days wind of change come my way
bringing a new lease of life
somehow feel different now than I did the last few months
Change blown through on a strong breeze that's carried away a lot of my troubles leaving me with
wonderful memories of my
time with
Helen
A wind of change that Is
turning around my life and
allowing me to live again
but keeping Helen with me
just as In life a comfort to me
A wind of change blown through on a summers breeze gently weaving through the trees taking all
my bad dreams
away
To leave me with the most beautiful dreams and wonderful memories of Helen
passing through on warming summer breeze
Weaving gently through the tree on the wind of change
Wind of change weaving gently through the on a warming summer breeze
Johnny walker Jan 28
As watching the falling rain tiny droplets weaving patterns down the window
pain since she passed away life has now never be the
same
As graze upon the rain drench streets I'm remembering when we walk hand In hand down these very streets all now seems a very long time
ago
Off to the park It to there we did go where sat and we talked and we stayed for a while
It was while looking In her eyes I knew I was In love with this beautiful girl and I now wanted to be with her, lost In the moment forgetting briefly the cold
day
Then slowly coming out of my daydreaming back to the reality of life alone and the
rain weaving pattern down the window pane on another cold and missable
day
Watching rain forming patterns as they weave
there way down the
window on a another
miserable day
Richard Grahn Oct 2017
On a windswept plain in a quiet place,
Beneath the stars in the moonlight’s glow,
Memories drift on the rising tide
As feelings flow through the seams of time.

Bound together they whirl and spin,
Weaving threads into fleeting glimpses.
These little thoughts are born to feel.
The meal’s been ground on the miller’s wheel.

A misty vision settles in.
It grows into a mighty swell.
Rolling over the present tense,
It leaves the heart with no defense.

No fence can bind this fertile field.
Its earthy yield is what we feel
But wrapped around on the spinning wheel
We’ll twist and turn ‘till those feelings heal.
SøułSurvivør Sep 2016
~~<○>~~

shadows shed by moonlight
through the plants entwined
creating their own patterns
weaving their designs

blues and purples shimmering
the subtle shades of grey
the lovely dearth of color
unmatched by light of day!

they create a tapestry
of mystery on their looms
the woof and warp of dreamers

the shadows of the moon

~~<○>~~


SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/11/2016
I had a lovely time reading tonight. I wish I could read longer... My time is so limited and precious! I want to read you all! But it is almost midnight here, and I must be going to sleep soon.

HAVE A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT!
HAVE A BEAUTIFUL DAY!
Wherever you are in the world!

~~<○>~~
Seanathon Jun 2016
Such moments are not gone forever, they will return.
They are on hiatus.
Taking a break from the stranded places in the tapestry of life.

I am weaving, working my way onward.
Walking the path towards a certain someone.
Who someday I might just be able to call my own, my wife.

— The End —