The Seven Daughters Of Silk

Blue Silk

Last night I dreamt of blue silk
She is the sea of desire
Her voice whispers urgently
Her hands bind us in ribbons
Her form moves beneath cascading sheets
She is made of lines and curves and points
She is a cartographers dream
Of hidden currents in an ocean
That carry us into uncharted waters

Green Silk

Last night I dreamt of green silk
She is the landscape of life
Her voice is a soft murmuring river
Her embrace the warmth of the earth
Her cloak is a forested mantle
She lays beneath us and gives us life
She is the wilderness
And the hidden mountain hollows
That beckon us homeward

Red Silk

Last night I dreamt of red silk
She whose fire forges us
Her voice is edged with iron
Her caress cuts us to the quick
Her dress is made of fingers of flame
She wraps us in arms of fire
She burns us inside of her passion
And leaves us ravaged and spent
That open us to be reborn

Yellow Silk

Last night I dreamt of yellow silk
She is spilled like precious gold
Her voice is soft with the warmth of butter
Her caress slides smoothly on our skin
Her dress falls about her like the sun
She arcs across our sky
She carries us from cold to hot to cold again
And leaves us with the memories of dawn
That embrace us through the night

White Silk

Last night I dreamt of white silk
She lies next to us with a cool purity
Her voice is the song of a bell
Her caress dazzles and dances on our skin
Her dress is simply cut and severe
She sits on a throne of wisdom
She watches us with porcelain blue eyes
And holds in her hand the dragons of our dreams
That she unleashes without pity

Black Silk

Last night I dream of black silk
She comes to us a subtle shadow
Her voice is a whispered breeze
Her caress as cool as night rain
Her dress swallows the stars in the sky
She trails long nails along our spine
She engulfs our very souls
And in the end leaves us as nothing
That knowing nothing we cannot weep

Raw Silk

Last night I dreamt of raw silk
She spills across the floor in waves
Her voice is hiss of the loom
Her caress is spun like a web
Her dress is gossamer and lust
She laughs as she takes us
She is infectious in her excitement
And leaves us breathless and happy
That we see the potential of all things

Tags: Poetry, Silk, The Seven Daughters Of Silk