Beware the lady who spins a net of dreams,
snatched like flies from the night air,
and dangles them like talismans
before weary, sleepless souls.

Clothed in all the wishes, and hopes,
covertly stolen from the careless
who hang them freely on their sleeves,
her dress sways like gossamer in the breeze.

Dainty and enchanting, in her finery,
bejewelled with desires robbed from the unwary
this feathered nymph of thievery
dances through the moonlight to the edge of day.




 december 2002