
Woven threads
patterns moving
under fingers with
craft and cunning,
created to hold
bodies of blood
for futures to come.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

She claws her way out
of hell, Cerberus howling
breeze warms frigid air
Young buds stretch for blossoming
birds fluttering in the trees

Woven threads
patterns moving
under fingers with
craft and cunning,
created to hold
bodies of blood
for futures to come.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina