Judy P's Tickle Trunk

For Lance

On days I fear the threads which binds our souls

Cannot the rage of winter winds withstand,

I conjure up your face, and sit and spin

A few more threads and twist them with my hand.

When span of granite shore to red clay soil

Pulls taut and pains those threads along their length

I think upon your kisses sweet, all while

I spin and twine more threads to give them strength.

When doubting friends their cynicism show

And say ethereal threads must be a lie

I tell them: pluck a note or draw a bow

And know a thread’s for more than just to tie.

        For fragile cords that loving hearts make strong

        Cannot by man nor nature be undone.