I see the mosaic on the wall
- the threads and weave that wind
along a circuitous path.
It reminds me of my childhood.
Of dreams long past
and wistful wish of lives lost.
Oh how my eye wanders along itís gilded threading
as my mind wanders along it's smoky mind sight path.
My meandering forms an image of the people
I had once shared a threading of life's needle.
The gilt work journey along the edge
reinforces the image of paths taken and not.
Of obstacles overcome and overwrought.
Moreover I find myself in a reverie of thought
when my gaze lays upon the heart spindle
which spun the paths that my own thread revealed.