Hearsay, a loose word for something never witnessed, Like shapes thrown from streetlights or silent derelictions. I was never one to be tethered, more a stranger drifting From bedsit to bedsit. Outcast, some said. Afflicted, said others. A tapestry can only be sewn with the thread you are given, Turned into an old cotton bookmark with a hard stitched heart.
When I saw the header I immediately started humming …
A great track and glad you picked up on the reference. A number of Paul Weller / Jam songs started off as poems.
Wonderful poem.
Thank you, Diana. That is most appreciated. I’m glad you liked it. Thanks also for the share on Twitter. 🙏
Beautiful imagery! ~ Alicia
Thanks, Alicia. I’m glad you enjoyed the poetry.
I love this poem. So grim and poignant.
Thank you, Priscilla. I am glad you enjoyed the piece.
“A tapestry can only be sewn with the thread you are given”
This is a deep and beautiful line, Davy. I guess the designs and patterns are what really matter and forge our identities. A lovely poem. 🙂
Thank you, Terveen. I am glad you enjoyed the poem. You are right about the design and patterns, and I suppose they are always changing.