String Rendition

Strings hang above my head

Dangling with paper faces in frames

They are dyed, colourful strings

Making my shadowed room lively again

Through the window comes cold draft

And they all spin in their straining

Through my tremors I knock one

And it twirls endlessly, and then lulls

Do you think this tension badly aches?

Could the knot be lightly bruising?

The smiles light the dark of my home,

genuine as back garden sunlight,

And I know they like their rainbow strings

But I think, soon, I should cut them down.