When all the world is sleeping
except for me it seems
I’ll read your poems in my keeping
a skein from which to weave new dreams
I’ll tease my memory again and spin
a twist of magic through my hand
so long and fine ~ a wish is held within
each silken spiralling strand
Attached to the loom by tacks of trust
the warp is fixed to hold the weft
interlacing shimmering love & lust
a pattern forms from weaving deft
Flowers gleaned from a secret Eden
are strewn throughout the length
and golden strands of stolen even’
inter-woven make for lasting strength
Now shall I cut my dream cloth sheer
and fashion a mantle bright
to wear for you in your dreams my dear
when I come to you in the night.