Progressing through Patchwork

This is the year I found out:

Patchwork comprises my heart.

The quilt of my childhood alters its look,

Growing and refining as I do.

Each face I meet, a new swatch added.

Pink—reluctantly— from a new friend fond of the color

takes it place beside the worn stripe of my mother.

Blues. And reds. And yellows.

The heartbeat of the pattern,

For friends’ fondnesses become additions to the style of me.

An entire section dedicated to green and gold in,

red and black of the past out: a welcome change.

New pieces, half-sewn, find their way onto the edges

While a beaten ocean patch drifts off like its namesake.

More and more, the patches are sewn on with care.

No longer are they haphazardly filled

Merely to constitute a person not yet formed.

No more quick additions, only to be hastily removed.

My patchwork heart is a work in progress,

but I am grateful for

each

individual

piece.