Stitches — the Sewing Kind

The needle pierces through fabric and thread,

a quiet escape where my worries are fed.

I mend up the hem, a small but fierce fight,

but slip of my finger, the blood stains the white.

Colors entwined in a tangled ballet,

as stitches bring comfort in a curious way.

I pull at the yarn, unwinding my fears,

each loop of the thread keeps the darkness in tears.

Yet here at my table, all chaos subsides,

with every small stitch, a new way I bide.

The fabric and needle hold solace untold,

and the warmth of creation pushes back at the cold.