Bright white billows the duvet cover on the line........,
not the cases for pillows,
they are too small to hold what is needed.
To be what is needed.
It moves with slow grace, the soft wings of an embracing swan,
swollen with warm air, a rising cloud of snow dough.
It appears larger than the garden,
wider than the sky,
stronger than.......
.... who knows? Not I.
Its strength lies in its softness,
its tissue fingered caress,
it could cry cotton wool tears
and with powder puff lips plant a kiss...............
When raindrops fall upon its skin,
they form windows,
that reveal..........,
the emptiness within.
Missives & Musings 