She pulls it slowly from her heart
Until it unravels.
It tumbles to the floor like glitter
And sends shimmers to the ceiling and the walls

She runs with the thread
Down the hill
Through the wood
Amongst the trees.

It runs with her
In tandem, in time, in sync.

She sends the thread
Out to the world
To the hearts of those who need it most.

And when her work is done,
She gathers the remaining thread,
To place back in her heart
To make some more.
Golden.