Two Patchwork Poems




Can you sew

this tear
that was left

in my heart
will your deft

gentle hands
stitch up this

fleshy container
that longs

for new love,
using your


to bind me,
as I suture my

lips to yours,
meshing as one,
velcroed to your

passionate embrace,
others have

hemmed and hawed,
but your eyes have

threaded the needling
that drove me

from love's grasp,
you alone can

turn repair
into a perfect pair,

you and me,
it's as thimble

as that.








Patchwork partings.  

Can you smell it?
the summer is decomposing
into a rich humus,
that hangs all spicy, and crisp like
dangling in the cooling breezes.
It will leave in a whirlwind,
spinning in it's emerald gown,
and storming away.
Bidding us a cold shoulder,
as it sets off to fairer climes,
where bathers will immerse,
pale flesh in its temporary spell.
As a consolation it parts with
a gift of lovely hues,
perfumed in woodsmoke and
pumpkin pies,
bare limbs reaching in thanks,
creating a kaleidoscope
world of swirling 3-D
postcards colored in
bright orange, reds and yellow,
to remind us of it's passing
and making us say,
"Wish it was still here."
        ©-MFB III

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