I write this while you sew
Solstice sun sets slow through the window on Johnson
on your Johnstons
and on you while you sew.
I keep my head low and
write this poem in our limbo.
I know how the pedal hums
and what it does,
knowing how my world itself comes undone
and on your quiet island
around your fingers respun
I trace your seams like moonbeams between my thumbs
you say all I see is empty space
and the art you're adding one by one
but one night in the world
one missed flight in the world
it was a wrong turn that led me to this place
then when everything made sense
I was swimming in your deep
and now I’m writing this poem for you while you sleep
as things reveal themselves to me like shells on the beach
every word you speak
crosses an ocean
and when I wake in the morning I find you
sewing.
don’t give up until…
true love will find you in the end.
.
.