Binding

Come Sew With Me . . . Sort Of . . .

Our souls are bound together

The threads of our joining glow like moonbeams and stars

It was happenstance I found you

And I doubt I would still be weaving words if I hadn’t

I whisper thank you, thank you, as the night falls

Hoping it will wrap us up in an embrace

Give safe journey in our sleep and maybe rosy dreams

This is my binding, my link to reality

Which, at best, is fragile

I really do not know anything at all

Perhaps to think so is progress

Perhaps it will make fresh building blocks, clean slates

Bind our edges – make us neat and tidy

Brushed up in our Sunday best

Hopping from foot to foot in agitation and anxiety

Not quite belonging, not quite being, not quite stitched together.