Red cotton thread looped
into a sharp silver needle.
Reliable, sturdy, practiced stitches.
In. Out. In. Out.
A repeated chant
as the needle continues its marching dance,
Its duty and its purpose.
Every ***** of the needle
draws little beads of pretty crimson blood,
the thread ties together
the pieces that have broken
and festered and weeped.
it’s been a never ending
rhythm of reinforcement.
Keep it in, keep it together.
The silver needle does its job.
The red cotton thread wears fast.