Woman Poem by Anya C

In the medley of alarm I am a dreamer's dream In the aridity of liturgies I am an offshoot stream

In those airy caveats, I am the silence dire In the muck of slush I am a repository of fire

In the cremains of scrolls, I am the book to keep In the cloy of chortling rolls, I am the memory to weep

In the meeples of faces, You'll find me known In the farrago of guesses The truth's taken to hone

Glitter takes golden crutches Gold by itself is borne Forlorn in the third world Is where the Kohinoor shone

Ănyā