Blanket

Threadbare and worn

from excessive use, it covers me

keeping me safe and aware when I must be silent.

It holds dreams and more, as I furiously knot, adding patterns and

lilts to it's basic shape, ruffling the edges as

more color seeps into the unending flow of silken sounds...

Breathless, I stitch and loop, twisting threads around my nimble tongue,

tha same that would slice as wuickly, with a witty jab of juxtaposition

or a simple, yearning monologue. Truth is in the threads of this living cover that

swallows us up, and extends it's ever growing patterns into undulating waves

that speak volumes, while saying nothing at all.