Day Eight: 8th April 2014

Light permeates and is held
Tight within the warm honeyed depths
Of each perfect bead.
Thread an evocation of a dream-like past -
Time locked.
Held fast.
I loop the string about my throat,
Sunlight on heavy eyelids,
A needle threads,
Time turned,
Visitation to a bygone world.
Linen of sage,
Sunflower stitched,
Abundant rippling red hair,
I am there.
Artists, poets, craftsmen, muse,
For the briefest moment
Myself I lose
In heady possibility
Of artisan worlds -
The flick of a brush,
The dip of a pen,
A yearning that I might be then.
Amber of a honeyed soul,
Thread about my present whole,
Cast your spell
That I might feel
The tug of a stitch spooled from history's reel.
Sunlight falls on heavy lids.
For a moment
I am gone.