I posted the beginning of a poem a few days ago. Here’s more. I’ll put it all together when finished.
When the boy had said
“I wish I had an earwarmer like that,”
I went home
and cast about for
then set in place a plan,
a perfect time each day
to work rows
in multiples of eight.
It had been a year then
since I’d seen him
and it could be another year again.
Or less. Or more. Or maybe never.
I hung by a thread, never knowing,
but nightly I picked up the needles…