time is the filthy filch of legend
of course legends we are told
whispered to
written of
a coalescence of threads of memories
forming an ethereal tapestry
weaving vignettes into our minds
stamping indelibly
like a passer by
leaving a package on your doorstep
unable to ignore pandora
but to open horror or glory
or just a lesson learned on a recipe card
one never knows what grows in imagination’s garden
monsters that were, that never were
that will be only now
or a mighty hero to rise
and conquer that hill
a demon vanquished
or transform into a bird
and fly like magic
up into the stars
framed for all eyes
to touch down on humanity’s gaze
through the ages
once and many more

notes… I must admit, I get an email daily “word of the day” from Webster’s dictionary, I have a fabulous volume of words at my disposal, but I am a word nerd at heart, a word has to sing to me, it has to sound right, and tonight… the word was “filch” and it spawned this… which is cool because the muse loves to poke me with a stick and share my gift, words are my play things and I do love manipulating them, so much more these days, words are my playground so I play, sometimes it results in serious thought, sometimes in back and forth, but always, always banter, this much is such.