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The Gods Own Twilight
(© Matilda Marks)

Fingers release and slide loosely along the thread;
Pausing and remembering her son long dead.
As her fingers meander along the strand; into future.

Tears slide in silence; down that pallid cheek.
Glazing ice blue eyes; that drowned and needy seek...
The comforting gaze of love that shares her loss.

He gazes back at the Beloved; who sits silent and still;
deft fingers seeking magic in the spinning of the wheel.
Her mind moves through the thread of time.

Spinning into existence; through trembling hands.
She grips hard the strand of her fate; accepting its demands.
And looks into the Gods own twilight.

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Last Update: Sunday, June 26, 2005