Patch Work
Patch work
A woman said to her lover once
You are the apple of my heart,
The wine that courses through my veins,
And the tread to my needle,
But since that night
When you darkened our warm bright light
You made my blood go sour
And by apple rot,
You broke my needle in two
With it,the heart that once belonged to you.
Copyright © Ambrosia Mohamed | Year Posted 2006
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