THE PATCHWORK THROW

The new square on the patchwork throw

We burnt together

Is strange

The needles we could not find to sew it

Have returned.

I find one every time

I rebuild my bubble.

 

The light that comes

Into your dust filled study

Makes me nostalgic

Because the shafts sparkle like gold dust.

But, I am remembering lies

And memories that never were

Even meant to be

 

Many years have faded

A bit of me with them

Has stayed behind in the shadows.

But more of me grows

Every day, I heal a little.

New skin replaces parts of me

Slowly but steadily.

 

One day we will meet again

As all mankind must.

We will recognize each other

And know that we are strangers,

Not the person we once knew

But someone else,

Just like the patchwork throw.

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