BeFunky_Tintype_3.jpgWritten by Charles “Gray Poet” Townsend  and Hastywords


I sat in the middle of the trees
A circle laid out in front of me
A noose of sorts, fibers strong
Tied perfect like he taught me
Why he taught me, I know not
But it calls out to me its allure
Will he approve of my creation
As I stare quietly, I’m not sure
The symbolism is not lost on me
The timing of each loop created
Braided with a meticulous ease
As if my story was foretold, fated
I lift it gently, proudly raise it high
He smiles, an affectionate wink
My dreamcatcher finally ready
Hung to snare images I think


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