FABRIC

Frigid bones and rigid lies

Grossly wronged

And severed ties

Preserving the humility

Humiliation

Is what it chose to be.

Loser’s serve

But a loser still

Wary of

A rising chill

No fortune to blame

And none to lose

A livid life

Cannot be bruised.

Feathers of

 The phoenix grow

Beyond today to tomorrow,

A little girl

Looks up in awe

Without a drop of sorrow,

A tattered fabric

Now, sewn back and forth

Stands proud at last

Protecting both.