…
{Stop me
if you’ve heard
this one before.}
,
there was a feracious inkle-weaver
who was married
to the moon.
She steeped her quill
in scent of stars, urged fire
-flies into sway and seized
the (roun)d(el)ay (raw, unformed)
in storms. Big deal,
she had regrets. A familiar
way with cousin clouds and war
-rior clandestine daisies. Ask
her for a cover story, and she’ll
thread you the likeness
(small love)of
some long lost day,
the risk
of open palms.
Thicken that plot
with a whole lot
of your favorite waffled
batter,
a hint of hope
and a tiny breeze
(on second thought,
in this case
forget the latter).
She was an imp
-ulsive one, a sun
-lit daughter,
an intelligencia of rain
addicted to the pitter-patter
………………………(s)laughter.
……………………………………….{Ah,
……………………………………….happy
……………………………………….ever
……………………………………….after.}
..
Poetic Asides April PAD Challenge, day 27. This is the one with all the words, and poking a little fun at myself today. 😉 (Getting a little punchy here, toward the finish line.)
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
inkle-weaver is fantastic!