by Ron Reed

It all comes tumbling
down and around your feet,
look and see,
nothing and everything;
many small fragments,
to make up the whole.
Where to start,
which piece, which part,
Pull the edges together,
to frame the middle… the heart,
How many attempts
to assemble these parts?
How many finishes,
after how many starts?
When at long last,
as time has past
the work is done
each piece in place
except just one.
To know its shape, color,
and where it goes;
where is this piece?
No one knows.
Some will overlook
the hole that is left,
some will discard it
feeling indeft, and try
another, another time;
and some will take it apart
to begin again,
patiently toiling, believing when
it’s done…
the missing piece will be in place.

©Ron Reed 2012

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