The Reading

Hands resting on me,

holding me in place.

Fingers running through the fabric of my life;

looking for dropped stitches.
She said

“I see life as a tapestry…

your place upon its length.

Our journeys may be different,

but all roads are the same;

the destination pre- ordained….

from cradle to the grave”.
I asked

“Could she but see the time

my stitches come undone,

so many twists and turns…

how many days left in the sun?”
Her eyes clouded over,

the truth became too clear;

she didn’t need to tell me…

I would not be long for here.
I crossed her hand with silver,

thirty pieces seemed enough.

My life betrayed before my eyes,

I’d found my place

to stop.

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