Does the fragile bear the light
Carry with it threads that might
Stream above, beyond and between
That which oft is not easily seen?
Dwelling in and from, amidst…
It tells the tales that may be missed.
Fly right through a heart’s skipped beat,
It bears no semblance to defeat.
Delicate in ways of mind
Sometimes its wings are not to find.
Folded in the lap of thee
They wait. Oh Lord, they wait for me.
©2012 Linda Willows