Don’t ask me to dissemble
To lie, deny my past
loves,
and those who hold me dear
cherishing the quenched flame, in their hearts.

When I lie down beside you
know you are inside me
safe, warm, held,
adored.

If another comes to me, in
early morning thoughts, dew in between my toes.
reflections in the pond, stirred by blackbird’s soulful song
Ask me not to foreswear the memory.

They are the scaffolding, about our home
the fabric stitched from fragments
quilted into a joyous throw, of pain, loss, forgiveness
under which we, now surprisingly contented, lie.