It seems the objects of early security follow us all through life in many forms.
Patchwork Musings Vying for order This square That corner One's center These squared-off life experiences Know well jockeying for position Is fraught with chance Disappointment Acceptance The waking state knows Nothing resolves naturally No stitch in one's original design Arrives at needle's focus point Matching perfectly the original intent Red threads Clash with its attracted yellow Black outs white One's colors Opting to make permanent That square Or the next Find unraveling threads But a question of time Permanence better hung On the wall of one's imagination Still We hope Will our dream impressions Be nestled beneath chin Or atop restless feet Where nightmare's fragilities Thrash about Disturbing tucked images That lovingly comfort Dream's Neverland So long This task of bringing together The peach trees of youth Nestling next to briar bushes of adolescence Awaiting adulthood's gnarled disappointments One's patchwork cover Taken every night to bed Merely wants the blanky of security Insuring a safe slumber Until tomorrow Where more patches await
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