i see you have kept our love
in a wicker basket full of faded wool
the remnants of the knitting that you began in the fall
unravelled over the winter and then knit again in the spring
i suppose you worried that
my heart would grow cold over the passage of time
as if the pulse of my love had an end
like the last flicker of a failing star
and i suppose you imagined that
if only a heart could wear a scarf
it would remain warm and vital through
even the most bitter freeze of emotion
but now i see you have no more time for knitting
when i most need a sweater to keep me warm
instead you unwrap me from your arms
and with a final kiss tell me to go
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