Stitch

This moment,
as I contemplate
looping her laces
and taming her mane,
I wonder how
I will tie
these loose ends
when it ends.
Leathery hands soon loosen
laces,
manes,
plugs.
Tears unfold
like a fire hose down an empty street.
In that solemn motion
I close my eyes,
and thread the needle
that will hold it all together.
As I stitch together
birthdays,
weddings,
I perfect
the lines around smiles,
and the palm as it arches around
my collar.
I color
excitement at a secret
and
sorrow at narrowed tomorrows.
I quilt
the length between swings and my arms,
depth of a sleeping child's breath,
width of a park bench for four.
Rough patches
reinforced,
as each stitch closes
I
do not care
which part covers my heart;
I am stitched into
those laces
and that mane,
never to be tamed,
and never to be let go.