restoration project
they fell from the sky
these transparent wings of mine
tattered and torn
and superfluously useful
night and day I stitched away
new leather onto old
rubbing and shining and redefining
a finer shade of gold
I hung them all alone inside
an unlit closet
wherein they stretched and glowed
and quietly repaired
imperfections I could not mend
january two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
