Following the pattern her sister gave her twenty years ago,
she stitches the future into a portrait of young love
where the fountains flow and the guitar is sweet
and warm with possibilities. Back then, she was
too busy to hear those sentimental songs. But now
her hands remember the soft touch of lace
on a summer’s afternoon, a boy with such long lashes
you could stroll out along them and dive into the black sea
of his eyes, a well where they would meet in secret.
The water deep and cool as she showed him her trick
of spinning stories she never planned to finish.
Though now her colours have corroded and her needle
is lost, she pulls each stitch through with infinite care
for time teaches you to treasure the gifts you make.

by Aoife Mannix


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