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.