I stitched a sampler for the one I love:
an aphorism; a house; two humans joined
at the hand. Embroidered underneath in pink,
our initials, linked with an ampersand.
I strove an hour to fashion the ampersand;
even then, it looked more like a bird
beakless, legless, wingless, yet a bird
but further effort would have torn the cloth.
('Tis meet, et cetera, but not to go
too far.) Darling house I know by heart!
I know to keep away. I tacked the sampler
to the door and turned to go, idle now.
The mute ampersand doesn't say,
Don't forget, as I can't, not yet.
