Her breaded hands stitched it for me
Loving palmed patches a mark
Luminous reds and superfluous violets scampered a star
The daybreak she spent with a silver thumb
Knowing what quilted squares might become
Frivolous heart and wrathsome speed
Racing down Indy 500 threads
Shuddering bodily eye weights
Getting work outs in a back room gym
Until it was completely swallowed in her pride.
The hands sluggishly drooped
The tongues dry with chamomile tea
Made it feel wonderfully pretty tied up in ropes
And locked it into my smooth hands
With a combination that smiles.
Though fairy days now vanished
And tea stingingly cold
Bland strings hanging nonchalant
Merely sticky notes of daft gray hands
Inscribing a pin cushion of an amorous patched heart
And simply what she had written here.
Copyright 2006 of Jessica Anne McLean. All rights reserved. File Sharing is Encouraged.
Winner of Contest, 2006
Published in 2006 by Young Writers
Dedicated to Marianne Henn, who inspired this poem.
The Rose 
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