The Tapestry

Wipe the doubt upon your eyes,

For love, it does exist!

How can you see and still decline

At witness of a love like this?

Yes, the edges may be jagged,

The corners, frayed and torn.

The thread hangs like a convict’s noose

And the cloth is tired and worn.

But love is not an easy art.

It is not simply done.

Like any bearing of the heart

It is a battle fought, not won.

The colours may be bright, then grey,

Like the sea that fights a storm,

But underneath love's tapestry

We keep our bodies warm.