Clotho and Lachesis
take my fragile, silver thread.
They spin its length and measure
while I'm sleeping in my bed.
They nod so very woefully
at every happy smile
because they know
there will be tears
in just a little while.

I try to keep my councel
and not give too much away.
My world can turn in moments
if they cause my thread to fray.
I should not laugh too loudly,
cannot make my smile too wide
Atropos waits
with sharpened shears
just on the other side.

My joys are kept in secret
so I do not turn their eye.
I fill my glass half empty
lest they turn my life awry.
I celebrate in secret,
it's a self survival trait
for never do
I want to be
accused of tempting Fate.