Tapestry

Tapestry

My heartbeat was weaving a melody,
As frantic, I grasped what words I could find;
To construct a ladder of poetry,
And climb through a window into my mind.
The pack on my back was as black as coal,
And went unnoticed, as I was leaving
The deep, dark hole where I stole my own soul;
A vital part of what I was weaving.
My hand swept the sky to gather bright stars,
And moonlight to shimmer and radiate,
To breathe life into ancient avatars,
Who would populate scenes that I create.
In my fantasy memoir majesty:
My life story, my living tapestry.

Mick McKellar
March 2016

We are all weaving something to leave behind as a legacy.

Mick