In the mending of a heart
the broken edges pieced and sewn
taking in all that broke apart
closing up the pain you’ve known
New people new feelings growing over the seams
stitches filling the rips of pain
the past that broke you now only dreams
time now taken to try to make you sane
Stitches felt only slightly with fingers of the soul
still there and yet less or so I’m told
seemingly now to be somewhat whole
the burning hot fire of the pain growing cold
In these stitches lie the hurts of the past
dreams broken love lost hope all gone
in the twilight now at last
my heart and it’s stitches all alone
Deborah Horton Writing 