The Tailor

The Tailor with his waning spool

Works his craft in hopes to fool

The watching world with hollow eyes

His raveling heart he must disguise

 

His thread is spent, his fingers bent

As he tries to mend the tears that rent

The fabric of his life apart

The wearing strings of weary heart

 

With remnant scraps of worried will

The gaps between he tries to fill

With patchwork pieces of his soul

The Tailor works to be made whole.