Those items that fit me well touch my soul Some spirit of serendipity saw to it and allowed our meeting Perhaps in my loving it too much, too long I wear it bare Unwilling to part with it I take it to that little local shop or take a needle to it with my novice hand That once foreign object of love Now broken–in transfigures into something sturdier than when we begin Those insightful adjustments second nature after so much shared trail weave into the mending Now on our second honeymoon We find ourselves wholly together