Spun on a thread, a gossamer thread
Hung on a dream in a watershed,
Shadows suspended in effortless time
Regretting those words left unsaid.
Regretting omissions, those hesitant thoughts,
Words bitten back by the tongue,
When clear expression could lighten the load
To sing every song left unsung.
So dimly, through deficits' dust laden air
In a shaft of brittle white sun
My confession remiss for omissions amiss
Paint bereft-ness before it’s begun.

M.
11 January 2016