Web of wood

Lose sands refused to part
As we strolled
Tired, weary, hand in hand
Dying, but not yet dead

Grains between our eyes frozen
Framing the moments slipping by nimble
Like a stream of thick blood broken
Not guilty of its smudged verses
Sketches the silhouette of our being
Do the sands not part,
For it is relieved
That our tale is turning
A weightless feather

The last sign of life we saw
Was a fading light and a lonely marionette
Both hanging lifeless by a tree
Hanging by its branches too
Were we
Like questions
In a web of wood