The Unwoven Ones

I love my friends
Each like a tapestry
Beautiful threads woven
To create a pattern
Uniquely their own

Many like a Thomas Kinkade painting
Idyllic, pastoral, homebound
Society friendly
Safe, predictable
The light is always on

Some like a Picasso or Pollack
Fun, wild, courageous
Without rules, rhyme, or reason
Following the beat
Of an inner drum

Some with the color gone

Washed away in one storm or another Navigating through life

By the chill in their bones

Looking for home

And a few quiet souls
The unwoven ones…they know
A flower’s scent, birdsong, the wind
Or the warmth of the sun
Can never be captured in a poem

bjbeyers 1/2019

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