Interlaced like the threads

The colours and patterns

Are verified by the skills

Of the weaver

Just like love that grew

Like a flower

And had been ripped off

Close to its height of


Just tasted its sweetness

Remained to the lovers

And he

Fallen into another trap

Of a honey pot

Like a drunken insect

Into Venus of devouring


But his dream to taste her


When he returned

After a life of adventure

Seemed close

But as closer he sensed

To get to her

The further she drifted





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.