There is a sunrise out our window;
while a waning half moon remains.
In wonder, my hands pass over this
patchwork quilt that is our marriage.
My fingers find places where.....
though torn and ragged, we hunched together,
adding a patch, tightening a stitch, sewing a tear.
Even some of the patches have patches.
A grin spreads across my face
as fingers find very well worn and remembered places.
As you raise the walls and install our window,
I shall spread this quilt across our bed,
across time, into the heart of a marriage
changing with tomorrows, with shadows, with us.
Ours
Poem of the Week * March 3 to March 9, 2002
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Sheaves of Grass **A Collection of Poems
by K. Violet * 2000
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