You gather me–

all my errant parts,

my straying strands

and false selves.

You pull me together

with a thread,

seemingly invisible.

I step back

and take a good hard look

at the subtle, strong, hanging on

that binds my heart together.

It’s good work, from sure hands,

even and straight stitches

that have not faltered

or missed a fold.

One thought on “Gathered

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