We Remain

Musically,

I refrain

from speaking others shame.

Intricate, we're woven

on a line

where vintage linens hang.

Subtracting minutes

turn to years, added.

Choices:

Should I make my bed?

Memory blends like watercolors;

the brightness of them fade.

Who we are...

chosen in minutes turned to years.

Intricate fabric, woven--

braided you & I.

Linens in a breeze don't hang;

spirits lift, our end.

But woven we'll remain.