golden, sweet as lions
that lay with lambs.

in the dark of the kitchen,
underground,
he asked. tilted head.

slowly i poured it into
his open  mouth.

sweet child.

string all up the lane.

whilst

out of the strong came sweetness.

sbm.

they say she knitted till she left, sat up in bed.

others met in london, neither happy,
moved back to wales.

blanket stitch, small dogs, told
my story, in batches, the stitches
punctuating.

words now.

words of life, words of wonder
that these things happen.

sbm.

do you glue this, fix that,
or do you simply replace.

you must know by now,
we eat off mended plates,
and rise when  birds sing.

it may be a forgotten thing,
those cotton hankies, darning,
repairing old , hung together
with string.

yet, it may be you do the same,
standing tall, waiting.

for pins.

sbm.