Miracles of Time
sometimes the future is made not foretold
She wove her web at seven,
When the big bear was given a seat
He was also given precedence
Over the smaller boo bear
Who wore dark fur without care,
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She wove her web at seven,
When all the world was unfair
Fairly robbing the breath out of her
As she sat at the tea table
Offering her bear friends a cup,
She wove her web at seven,
Then one day the sparks were struck
Down on every kind of luck,
She made wishes for that special one
To come into her life and make balance,
She wove her web at seven,
Into an unknowable future
Free of fear, folly, and failure
For this was more than a wish,
As the universe honors true symmetry.
❤Thank you❤
For Reading close to one minute, clapping 30–50x, highlighting and commenting this poem. It does help members of the partner program earn a few dollars. The longer you read and stay on the page is #1. It helps me stay motivated to write and produce what readers want to read.
