Conversation Threads

While sleep beckons through the scent of leather
Voices murmur, ebb and flow
The crimson thread runs on before me
Gliding and dancing beyond my grasp.

Confusion piques interest
The thread for a moment is mine
Distinctions unravel the bit in my grasp
And it runs on again.

Wandering from here to there
Finding such depth in narrow passages
The crimson is lost among the shadows
Fading in and out of sight.

Agreements reached, clarified, revised
The thread appears tangled before my eyes
Then class is over and motionless it sits
The crimson thread waits to be taken up again.