fresh old lace ~ SPC

How is it possible to feel so fragile, while inside the

roaring lion is ready to pounce, this will always

remain a mystery to me. To wear lace in those

paling shades of pink and white, only to be colored

in red on the inside. Oh, to peel back the layers in a

constant motion revealing each moment the

material faded over and over. I can feel the twist

when the rag is wrung tight and the color runs

swiftly back into the ground. I would rather be

that bright dye that will travel, than be the

colorless cloth that remains. Forever I will forge

contentment as the lace with its delicate holes

and designs. Fresh and clean, wispy and worn soft,

treasured and saved, used and past down

time and time again.