Lately my life’s like your old fur coat
small skin squares stitched together
in the shape of a human torso and arms
frayed and coming apart at the seams
a bit shabby and neglected and overdue
for the needlework of diligent hands
to stitch me up and make me whole
or better yet just pull me close
across your red sweater this cold
cold night won’t get me down
because now I see it’s the body within
that warms the coat and gives it shape
and nothing else except of course
a matching fur hat.


Published by

Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner

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