My life is made of tapestries
Beautiful
Yet so flawed.
I think I never knew it
Although I have known it
All before.
You ask me what "can't you do"
Oh so enquiringly
I answer
"I can't fly yet"
Ever so conspiringly.
So if beauty is in
Imperfections
And my tapestry
Is full
Then ain't life
Funny that way?
Ain't it thrill?
So I return to where I
Started
About tapestries and souls
And know without a doubt
That it is your beauty
That makes mine whole.
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