You stitched yourself a world
of patchwork panels
hanging crooked from one another.
A cobbled mess of this and that,
the tension off in the needlework,
thread fraying loose in places.
One stray breath would rip asunder everything.
Yet still,
you held it out.
The storm left you shivering,
hair clumped and heavy headed,
slumped against my doorway
leaving dark spots.
Still clumsy with your hands
you kept them in your pockets.
A promise not to reach for me
despite the rain driving you,
to seek out home.
When the world shudders,
I still seek shelter with you.
I still cocoon myself in your arms
and pretend
that I am a child again.
Knowing you will keep the bad at bay
until I am ready to gather myself
and face the world.
I’m going to blame my other half for the lapse in memory that made me miss last night’s Quadrille prompt. He returned home with twelve Israeli Koi for the new pond in the garden so our evening dissolved into me staring over the edge of the water, trying to pick out any signs of their colourful little bodies after they’d been released.
Carol J Forrester 
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