And I shall find you

Tucked inside

Of those most private of moments

You keep

Only for yourself

Hidden

Yet waiting

Just waiting to be found

You've left clues

Again

A map

As you busy yourself

In preparation

Ironing out your cresses

Mending the frays

Patching the worn

Translucent fabrics

Reinforcing clasps

That have been weakened

Twisted and deformed by

Holding on

To more than you were meant

Your hope

The busyness of your hands

Will hedge

The loneliness of your heart

So you're mindful to leave

The bits of thread and loose buttons

That have fallen

And the crumbs

A trail

And your voice

As it hums between bursts of song

Singing

"Come home, come home. You've been gone too long"