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Click hereI am bits of string
and scraps of fabric,
held together with loose stitches.
My structure is wind blown and sun faded.
I’ll come apart in your hands,
I am not really fit for eggs at the moment,
or fat warm bird bellies.
I’m tethered
to the sway of life
by hair thin threads
thickened with forgotten down.
I am bent twig.
I am dead bramble.
I am sad ache.
Please don’t touch me,
unless you are sure of your intent.
I am one strong storm
away from feeling better.
Powerful emotions built into this one, despite the suggestion of fragility.
Your poem is absolutely beautiful. thank you. I enjoyed it very much!