Art by Norman E. Masters
| I weave enchantment... a tangle of words, shot through with silver threads soft as a spider's web, shining for you alone with rubies and pearls. (Fool, they are water gems prismed at morning time, gone by the noonings wind, slaking no thirst, My net's a fancied thing, barbed and meandering. Watch how my shuttle flies wondering your watching eyes, holding you by my side, witch-turned to stone.) |
