Tuesday, June 30, 2009
 | Patch's on my jeans and people know my deeds. The worn spots tell of my efforts for work or rest. Color splashed from works I have done bright. Patch's on my floor from the pacing lust caused. Wood milled and sanded to fit as if it is brand new. The stain upon it to turn its difference back similar. Patch's on my quilt to fix the rips from the past. Laid with through times of love and nights alone. The many patterns repeat like the choices made. Patch's in the fence to keep out the varmints wrath. Holes chewed to take the things I have worked for. The spots repaired seem to point to the weaknesses. Patch's in my tube before I choose the path of rivers. To stay afloat no matter the rocks or rapids ahead. The experiences from before marked for all to see. Patch's in my passions to bring them back to life. From things I gave up on to pursue another joy. My happiness uncovered with each patch I make. |
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