It could become
part of a teddy bear or snowman
but it’s held the portion of my coat
nearest my heart together for three years
and there’s no reason
for major alterations at this time.
In the still darkness of morning,
I stand in front of her
as she sews the button back in place.
She grimaces when she sees
that the thread she thought
was black is instead brown.
She worries that the contrasting
blossom of thread will spoil
the polished elegance of my coat.
I kiss the top of her head
and remind her it’s not
the color of the string that matters,
it’s only the attachment that counts.
.
.
.
.
Richard King Perkins II, IL, USA
