A pair of corduroy pants
sit folded on the ironing board,
their faded blue almost grey
in the early morning light.
They have passed in turn
from each of our children
to the next,
stories of young lives
worn into the fabric.
The ridges have been
diminished by the seasons
in places where they have bent
for a doll or a puddle,
or knelt for a story,
leaving nearly smooth,
but still patterned,
softness.
They are now too small
for any of our family ā
yet my wife has pinned
a piece of cloth,
edges folded and ironed
neatly for sewing,
over a hole in the knee.
She’ll stitch them carefully together
one evening as we sit.
I haven’t asked her why —
perhaps she hopes our youngest
may wear them one more time,
or there is something else
her patching might repair.
bussokuseki 
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touching and beautiful poem.. I do love the colours and the undertones you have woven in this brilliant poem.
groetjes, Francina
poetry like this just makes the day better. that was all I was going to say about this. but reading all these comments, well, this act of mending, it could be me, it could be my mom, it could be every woman who ever mothered and loved. thank you for this.
Thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts. How wonderful that a reflection that feels so immediate, so much about a single moment in a single life (mine in this case), can touch such a chord in the lives of others. Thank you for sharing how you experienced it – it is a gift. Be well~
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I really enjoy your writing.
Thank you so much, Angie. It is quite mutual, so that means a lot. Be well~
So, so beautiful and tender. Thank you!! Have a relaxing weekend,
Tanja
Or she’s thinking far into the future about grandchildren…or she’ll donate them somewhere of pass them to a friend with a little one. We women never want anything to go to waste. What a touching story in verse. Thanks you for this sharing. Warmly, Tasha
A quality post, with a poetic sensibility…:)
Why thank you, and thank you for visiting again and reading, it is a gift. Be well~
Shared this on my blogs Facebook page, too. Hope you get some well-deserved traffic from it.
Thank you, I am touched. Be well~
Such a perfect rendering of such a universal moment.
“I haven’t asked her why-”
I’m not sure why this is my favorite line in the poem, but it is.
Beautiful, as always.
These last two lines I find very moving…
Thank you. Those two lines weren’t ones that I fully understood until I wrote them…I often find a line or two that seem to write themselves in order to teach me something about what I have been trying to say…
A wonderful display of cycling life of all things. Thank you bussokuseki. Life is but a fractal… š
Blessings to you
-Nick
Blessings to you as well, I am so happy to have crossed paths…
(and life really IS a fractal…scroll down for Tanka #3…http://wp.me/p2R0UA-dF)
Oooo splendid Tanka #3
And seeing and directly experiencing this fractal can be such a blessing in reality shifts. =]
I’m definitely enjoying the fruits of our meeting as well friend!
mmmm. This is such a beautiful expression of the tenderness of seeing our children grow.
Thank you, Amanda, that means a lot. The tenderness, the grief, the joy…