Think about it–all the ragged ends,
those threads undone and tromped upon,
the finished products cut asunder in despair,
those outgrown or cast aside, too big to fill;
quilt pieces dropped, forgotten,
to return in dreams, unfinished.
Forgive and be forgiven, hear and be heard
for the first and last time.
So many stubs, so many seines to throw
to capture them all.
How can one leave a life unfinished?
I never learned the art of tying ends.
Nan Nov. 09