In my old chest a patchwork

not the comforting kind

made from hands long still

passed on to live in cedar sanctum


my patchwork a living trust

testament to breath of spirit

metronome of times marking

Once brightly patterned

sewn by youthful bounty

rainbow hues of primary palette  

stitched as afterthought

with promise forgotten

shown as feather in cherished cap

worn with billowed sleeve

only to be lost

on sandy shore

ripped and frayed by shifting gale

blanched pale by acid rain


As with all things cherished

love guides the mending hand

fingers vigilant

wary of shrouded thorn

stitch tight the tattered patch

pattern once boldly painted

now diverse with earthen hue

rich in the gracious light of passage

to the gentle waters of our mooring

Keyword: Pattern

About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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