The bare branches clicked dry disapproval in the moody hue of night.
From the clouded sky fell tears that traced distressed patterns in the misted window.
But I cradled the twisted twine in quivering arms all the same.
Its frayed fingers tangled in my own, patiently waiting to steal shuddering breaths from my chest.
It whispered sweet reassurances against my skin as I stroked the tightly bound texture.
And then
There was no sound
There was no light
I was lost deep into the night.
Eternities later (or maybe just a moment or two)
Sunlight peeked through the shafts of my lids.
My heart still projected hammering beats.
But the rope never left my arms.
It still rests there sometimes,
Waiting silently with watchful eyes.