She steps, swaying and strong along the winding ribbon of highway that threads these mountain towns together. She wears patchwork skirts, faded boots and an unstitched expression. Today a teddy bear swings in her grasp marking the seams of miles raveled by. Last week, she basted a quilted rabbit to her chest. She sings sometimes, lullabies to mend her threadbare friends as she traces patterns from selvage to fold. She doesn't see me or hear the traffic weaving by. She is happy, her self has gone to the dancing place. And I wonder how many steps until I join her. |
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