The fitted sheet

That day, I lay long over and across my bed
In rolling unreadable lines like
That picnic blanket tightly held for
One who would never show.

Now you are here, it is crazy but,
Can I share something with you?
If I spread the blanket and smooth out the creases
Will you sit a while with me?

I’ve made jams, spreads,
I kneel with wine prepared before
Now is there anything more fitting for two
Before the decorated frame is stripped of its fast fading leaves?


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