This night comes with a woman's touch,
in quest of strength and gentle pleasures.
A spider spins her web in silence,
oblivious to the flow of passions,
the rising warmth of space below.
Hours measure time unseen.
Dawn brings life to weary limbs.
The clock ticks on, unheard.
He cups her face with gentle hands,
drinks deeply of her soul,
love renewed in crystal gazing,
for a time . . . or for eternity.
The spider waits.
rege
Wishing you well...
Sam
Ted
thanks,
~D.