Tangled up with rope,
Twisted with leaves,
Splattered with paint and the words of those who lost hope.
Pieces of glass slipped within,
Saltwater and sand,
Ribbons tied with grass strands and screams caught on the wind.
Tossed to the side of a pirate’s gambling booth,
Wound around an enchanter’s finger,
Decorated with scarlet and a horse’s hoof.
Penned in a storybook,
Stuffed inside a helmet,
In the eyes of a warrior armed with a bite and two hooks.
Tousled by a lover,
Selected by spider webs,
Damp with a wet cloth and a body in a mourning cover.
Threaded with small snail trails,
Styled eventually by cottage dwellers,
Seated upon a head that continually pales.
Embraced with the dirt fields far away from home,
Caught on the glove of a knight,
A curtain of a scholar who scans pages and the advice of an old crone.
Attempted brushes with steady hands,
Swept to the side by volcanic gusts,
The chase of hunger given by a wild man.
Questioned by aristocrats perched on high seats,
Cut by blades when the time is right,
Ruffled by the breath of the dread mountain geese.