Artless and aged, a comfort, a frayed rag,
This woman is woven of many yarns,
Aware of life’s hazards, each sudden snag,
Pondering losses that will not be darned,
Enraptured, though, by what some dare not see,
Seams in the sunshine, the twining of night,
There, fabric of what was and what could be,
Revealed by silk strands to my spun delight.
Y ears have softened me; I am less but more,
W hat was bright and brash is muted and spent,
O ld tales held by pulled threads, my token lore,
M oments sweetly stitched, forever content.
A heart’s history that love still spans,
Never to fade, a tapestry woman.