By Lydia
Date: 2002 Sep 12
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Never splashing down in one place, I am cursed to chase yarns of love. Oh, how these tender strings do fling me about from room to room, cocktail to warm cider; but, never do I remove my socks. If, for just one moment I could keep hold tightly, I might dare to save myself from the next wave.

In each space I occupy, I soil the land that has loved me so richly, held me so dearly, sheltered me from my harms way. I cannot keep but from messing it up like a child. All this havoc I swill nightly, yet I never stopped looking over my shoulder. Many moans echo my departure, but not a one cries for my return.

I am drifter in life and love.  I hear the voices on the wind urging me to run, run away. Terrible screams swirl and funnel my brain; they all beg me to stop - but not to stay put. Chance we meet where a new ray falls, just hide from me your string; lest I unravel you all.