cobbled loss

by Jim C. Mackintosh


Woven words,
clag of oils,
leather burning
and ragged spoils.

Taps and turns
and a hidden wince
of arthritic days
not forgotten since

she was gone. A sense of loss,
and a remedy stitched
with cobbled words
of lost love, enriched

by shelves of comfort
piled high, and way beyond
those impish glances
that polished the bond.

Yet, the burden and toil
lightens and drifts away
in the surest of comforts.
She will hold him another day.

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