To TSW

In the choice of Rubbing

Wool into Silk,

Saturating it with several Colors

merging in Spheres

as if by Consent,

you give something

of your Substance,

Renders like a piece of you

brushing my neck

a whisper

only, but a whisper

all the same –

*

a Murmur of your person

 Murmur

only I can detect,

cherish, as I Wrap

the wool and silk

about my Nape

*

On the point of Departure

you have turned

once more, Winked

as you do

then faced your new Destiny

moving forward

leaving a Thrum

such a coded message

embedded in the Work

of the life you leave

Behind

*