The Stitcher - Poem by Sean Furlong
Oh seamstress with your needle silver
Can't you tell my mind's bewildered?
Oh seamstress with your thread of gold
Show me what your skill beholds!
You mend your garments with such ease,
But how are you with memories?
Where some might look to surgery
I ask you, please, to work on me!
Can you mend this heart so torn?
Battered, beaten, scathed and worn
I implore you please, for me, consider
To stitch up my heart before it withers!
Comments about The Stitcher by Sean Furlong
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda