I thread wordsThrough a quill needleStitching togetherEach strung thoughtOf incongruous patternsAnd mismatched fabrics But dissatisfiedI pluck at the seamsThen start again At the tableI sitInk-stained handsFingers bleedingFrom clumsy quill pricksTo create something beautifulBut there’s a joyIn the agonyOf sharingMy imperfect designs Continue reading