In the cold of spring’s eve, I thread wishes
into the fabric of my life, tattered and frayed
with years leaving marks in the stitches
left from past lovers and harsh winters.
I taunt the flesh while I slowly fade
into the emptiness of days, forgotten
and lost in between the wrinkles of time
while I pause to contemplate what’s mine,
and with trembling fingers I seek
the tenderness weaved underneath.