When I wish upon a star

I end up seeing you

Picking up the threads

I end up where I begin

Sewing strands just to see

What they be on me

An image comes to light

My rods adjust to see

Twisting strands, you and me

A little strand of life

A rainy mood to beat

Cross each other in a life

A bridge is knit between

Two thumbs and fingers crossing crafting strands

Child hands play twisting lives up for a laugh

Youthful play a fullsome cannot describe my inner drive

Lulling me mightily I close my eyes trying to epitomize

Darkness comes first

Then light, diffuse

Twisting shapes, not a heart

Hard lines, spinning apart

Where are those soft threads, soft hands, soft feet

Not thinking about what’s next to eat

Discriminating hunger refined by thought and feeling

Mirroring lust the should of feel

Should I choose or just be, mixing sand and surf my foot leaves prints by moving the earth

Innocence comes first. Than knowledge and hurt.

Self-control yet again, domestication of sins

The apple falls far from the tree blame the wind

The early bird gets the worm, then a snake bit me

The tree, a tree, any tree I guess, is quite enough for me to make a mess

I will apologize, but not with words.

Instead I will carry mood and feeling into action.

Transmutate thought into being.

What do I have left

Words are so useless, drama king being

I live to die, how else may I be, if not me than me than me

Kiss my ass, iconoclast, I knit my words for thee

I spin yarn into hard bales for lil’ plump hands and those that act to be