I see sights

birling, scenes
merging, converging into
colours and people -

photo of lilies,
lace and silk,
poses of velvet,
theft of feeling -

disbelief to have threads
spun  but unwoven, spooling
from  them to make me,
undergrowth,  verdant,
green in my  springing -

my
textured colour washes
through  me, my  fabric
made  by others, my
kaleidoscope of one

revolves and splashes
scenes on the wall that
converge to make  a life
they never dreamed  when they
held hands that day, and smiled.

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