Repaired
In the evening the primrose guards the back gate
Sparrow drink of what the sky has born
And the grass peeks out after a fresh rain
I lie in repose thoughtful and white eyed
The paint of the floorboard stands steadfast
The swing no longer creaks when swung
The porch railing stands upright given weight
But the floor caves as I bear weight
I must give effort to repair it
My motivation moves though me slow as the tortoise
Indeed I will rise
I rise, tools in hand, mending the broken
Repaired, I find myself confident
I find myself mending the broken
But oh be still my heart
-
Author:
Katie B. (
Offline) - Published: January 18th, 2026 05:02
- Comment from author about the poem: What we can repair and what we can not
- Category: Short story
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments1
Now this is a lovely metaphor Katie it is painted with beautiful imagery that puts in vivid contrast that, that needs repair. The introduction of the heart at the end emphasizes that there are some things that lie beyond our capacity to repair. Beautifully done Katie
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