He walks through the tapestry of his mind
Baroque colours of emotion laced in flight
Memories wane, transparent and then fade
Fashioned in squares from the death head’s long night.
And the dull, ivory needle stitches in breaths
In and out as this last story unfolds
Embroidered and fasten with time’s silent hands
That cut the thread of a departed soul.
Copyright ©RMC September 2018
Mistyroads 