We were so innocent
We planted bittersweet
My daughter cries vines of poetry
In words I once wept
I put them down
Silver and sharp as a needle
Mending
Mending
Furiously
What did I know of bittersweet
What did my mother know
Of the roots that follow
Any chance
Any chink in the wall
And all the best intentions
To repair
Stitch back to yesterday
And that one naive tendril
Carefully gardened




Sara Mathews        March 2019
(Artwork of James Christensen)