Talking of Northern Lights

I feel the words invite me in
The story takes my hand and then

It sets me gently in a chair
and takes me to some place, some when

It asks me to sit back, relax
and listen while a thread begins

a thread that soon a garment forms
or blanket or a scarf, it spins

a pair of gloves, the fingers warm
a jacket keeping off the cold

a story that passed long ago
but never, ever growing old


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