Threads

With all the art of patient mending

First this thread, and then that binding,

Now this stitch that, so demanding,

Spilt the verse I caught your mind in;

On to scattered words of wanting

Gleaned from needs and shadows, haunting;

All is lost that you believed in -

Leaving love for me to grieve in.

 

Now I sit and want and weave in

All the dross of bitter lendings,

New beginnings from old endings!

 

David Lewis Paget