November's Thread- Granddaughter

A faint whisper
a translucent veil
altering the Columbine
Lamb's Ear
Timothy grass
now just brittle shells
dry
hollow
devoid of blush and nectar
only glimpses of what once was.

And yet a subtle shade
hangs on
stands out
a theophany
provoking precious memories
arousing the essence
of hope.

Today
a new thread begins its twist
through my tapestry
of life.
She's still a whisper
still a thinly veiled thought
only a hue of the future
entwining the unfolding years
with distant memories
subdued and softened
fading threads of what once was
but now she's here
to weave the promise of what will be
again.