Solitary figure works alone,
swaying in a shaft of sun dust.
Plucking bright threads,
she weaves.
Glowing tapestry, created with love
from memories and dreams,
half-thoughts that come
between wakefulness and sleep.
soft skin beneath fingertips
laughing lips and eyes
large hand in mine
delicious mornings
sweet, sweet perfume of you
I lie alone, eyes closed.
Only in this world, am I in control.
Here, no fear, no tears,
no disdain, nor shame...
Here, I choose.
Here, I am not the tolerated,
I am the chosen.
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