A stain of jasmine tea,
A strand of white-blonde hair,
A scent of rose gardens and flowers,
Patterns embroidered with care.

And amongst all the cat fur,
Lies a single black strand,
And a bulge around the ring finger,
On the left hand.

Then the loose threads
The worn out holes
Hastily patched up with iron blood stitches
Leaving scars enclosed

And now
Lying hushed
Covered absolutely and entirely
In a thick layer of dust