“Tapestryâ€
The last rays of color cling tight to this threadbare tapestry.
Woven to be strong, it’s colors dyed purposely bright.
Time has seen it age, hung with pride, viewed in reverence forgotten in memory.
Withered and frail are it’s makings, fogged is its meaning.
Atrophied, it clings onto what remains by thin tendrils entangled and sagged upon dented ochre stained rings of metal.
Thin fingers clutched around a pole made uneven by the weight if its age.
Every day, and the next a struggle but to remain as it is.
Hidden in plain sight amongst the stares of all, it passes unseen.
Soon, the last rays of color will fade as its grasp falters.
Slipping into the abyss it goes unmourned.