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.
