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 |
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by K. Violet * 2000 |
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Copyright (1998, 1999, 2000, 2002) poetrykk/Sheaves of Grass Any questions regarding this site or its activity is welcome, email me at poetrykk@yahoo.com |