Our love was as gossamer, fine yet flimsy.
Filmy like cobwebs that float in the air.
Though sometimes love seemed to stick to the heart.
Other times, a breath billowed love away
On the breeze, like blown dandelion seeds.
In and out of lover’s play, we glided,
Happy-go-lucky, or lonely, or sad.
Would love float away from us forever?
Would our hearts be caught up in its web?
Or forever glide in fine gossamer?
Kaci Rigney Copyright 2026
Love is never gossamer
But rather net of adamant.
We are trapped.
Bound by duty
Suffered in pain
True love is not gossamer. That is true.