Seven years, spent.
Unraveling of my life leaves
me with a pile of yarn.

Supplies, material I have,
but I never learned to knit or sew.
What to make of all these threads?

Something useful, yes.
And extravagant, just for me,
finally, just for me.

Something warm and soft
and snuggly besides for nights
when I miss what used to be.

Something bright, bold, promising,
too, for days when I’m still not sure
what will be some day.

Today, I gather up the scraps, wrap
myself in multicolor pattern of hope,
a tapestry for tomorrow.