Knitted Warmth

Part of the story lands in gaps
Somedays, a whirlwind
Of silhouettes
Mischievous, a creative zeal.
Unbuttoning the core
Is a spinning wheel
Onion like, wearing frames in
Layers.

The humidity feeds
the sea fogged town
The night bugs keep
Twinkling
The sound feels warm
A finicky sensation
Buzzing each nerve
In unison-
A familiar nocturnal path.

There is no way to escape
What is my very own
I cannot just turn away
From looking
My mirror self, she keeps
The night window open.

When I keep my
Pawn in the game alive
I know it is small
But it pierces my own.
After closing the buttons one make
A warm embrace
Within, with my core
The inner furnishings longing
To look within
The mirror, a playful tapestry.

My hooded gaze
Needs a warm coat
The finished product is
A knitted muffler
Each intricate day
That
We jump out of the pawn
And at midnight
Look tomorrow's sun
Within our knitted warmth.