The Garment
The Garment
You came to me, friend, seeking comfort
From a blustering wind
Clutching in your heart the shreds of a dream
Slashed by a storm of harsh words.
Threads made up of stolen moments
Woven in borrowed afternoons –
Patches of evening with moonlight stitches,
Scraps of dawn sown to sheer morning blue.
Seams split open – ripped and torn –
Fabric gaping in ragged shreds;
The laughter it bore silenced now
Overcome by a gale of tears.
Unsure, feeling helpless, searching for tools
To reweave the threads torn in despair
Words, like stitches, only started to mend
The fabric of your unraveling dream.
Your tearful eyes mirrored the tattered hopes
Knit within the threadbare cloth
Now knowing only time’s gentle tailor
Refashions the tears left by the wind.
You came to me, friend, seeking comfort.
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