My Grandma had a mending basket;
a shirt missing a button,
a skirt with hem ripped loose,
Grandpa’s overalls wanting patching.
And my mother darned socks;
who does that now--
spending precious hours
weaving holes shut?
It takes time to mend;
sewing up the rips
and tears of living, restoring
things back into a state worth using.
No end to your talent, Ellen. Lovely words.
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