Monday, September 10, 2018

Thirteen

I wish I had known sooner.
This intertwinement, the pushing and pulling of fine thread.
What we were creating.
Slowly. Painfully.
The strings chaotic.
And the waiting. I thought it would kill me.
It asked me to be gentle instead.
All the while, I didn't know what we were making.
Lace.
More delicate than imagine.
More durable too.

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