What a Thoughtful Web the Spider Sews

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Where I lie down
Is where Fear chokes
And where Hope
Opens loving arms
Wide like the blue
Sky of tomorrow.

A peaceful world
Is a false world,
At least where man
Is free to roam
Like a stray lion.

Hope is the husband
I have yet to fully
Wed. The train of
My gown reaches
Into tomorrow to
Boldly fetch his hand.

The mustached man reads
To me tonight from a tattered
Book, pages black with
Time. His words prick
Like a rose bush,
Though he may not
Have meant them to.

A friend is like a
Stinger,
Issuing not poison,
But the silent whisper
After the boot kicks.


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© 2009 vagrant moon