(a poem for Facebook)

Words slip from the screen,
winding me in threads of text,
binding mind and feeling.

Fumbling at the brisk
pace of caring,
I scroll through worlds—

loss, laughter, lunch on Tuesday,

silent strings of detail that
glisten outward

and by gossamer connection
I am both secured and sliced,
life left as ribbons
in my hand.

Related posts:

  1. I’m not a detail person (except when I am)
  2. The Threads Still Whisper Her Love
  3. Prayer Threads


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