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
*