Cara, reads well though I would drop a couple of words and do not like the
lone jar.

Thanks.

Gary

He was always amazed
         at the way she picked
         the frayed edges
         of relationships.

         Then kept the multi-coloured (no then)
         ends of threads
         in a translucent
         jar. (too short)

         He suspected
         that the innocent glass (no that)
         played tricks upon
         her perceptions.

         When she stayed up at night,
         he imagined,
         she spilled
         the coloured strands (no the)

         over the drab table-cloth;
         tried to re-weave them
         into patterns
         that would have pleased.

         He could track the tears (no the)
         on her cheeks
         once she had climbed
         the heavy stairs

         to join him. (fine end)

January guest Nat at: http://gardawg.homestead.com/gardawg.html,

Submissions: http://www.writershood.com/index.html

Poets for Peace.  ¡Poemas sí, balas no!