Threadbare Hearts

She stands at the corner of 33rd and Grand. She carries spools of threads in her long withered hands.

Like an autumn tree she stands, with her face turned toward the sun. Her long silver locks are curly, and from her tiny waist a soft gold chord is hung.

Barefoot on the sidewalk, she smiles as cars press by. Her long white gown shimmers like frosted butterflies.

She hasn’t got a name, she just stands in awe. Handing out colored threads to strangers, to travelers large and small.

Into the night she stands, her face turned toward the stars; her gentle voice, over the winding traffic, welcoming guests from near and far.

No one knows her name, she says she does not need one. Her withered hands of love carry every color, and then some.

Her spools of threads, like wildflowers, smell of roses and of rain. For everyone that gets one, their love becomes their fame.

Some say she is an angel, others know her as a saint. Every color in her hands, like an artist with her paints.

Rolling down their windows, like clouds, their eyes do pour. She knows each passenger’s color, like a rainforest knows a rainbow’s magnificent score.

No one knows the hour this woman found her claim. She stands through every season, to give threadbare hearts a reason to remain.

“Pass your thread through other’s hearts, like the needle to the eye. Only you have this color, only you can find the why.”

“Gently stitch your color into every heart you meet. In turn, let others leave their color in your heart so sweet.”

“At the crossroads of life we must cross stitch our love, the hues. If you love your enemy, they will leave love inside of you.”

“Hard as it seems, the seams that break and fall, we must be the answer to passengers large and small.”

“There is not one other, that has your color lot. You are the vibration of color that the waters of creation caught.”

“Into a sea of God’s tears, the sun forever does remain. We are one, but we shall never be the same.”

She stands at the corner of 33rd and Grand. She carries spools of threads in her long withered hands.

Kathy Paysen 2013

Absolutely Beautiful

What an absolutely moving and beautiful story in poem form! This is wonderful Kathy, you can get lost in this story and picturing the scene as it unfolds. Such deep thoughts as well...so many beautiful people and colors, so many ways to love. I have some beautiful stitches here that belong to you , that you have left over the years :) I hope you find a few of mine as well. I really enjoyed this, it is one to re-read and think about. Thanks for sharing, and for letting others see the beauty of the color in your giving and compassionate heart :)

Love,

Jill

Colors of Love

Dearest Jill,

You have definitely left your beautiful colored stitches in my heart ... to forever remain.

You are a true friend and I value your art, your comments, and your desire to serve with such kindness.

I have been trying to draw, paint, photograph. I wish I could paint the images I see in my head. This old woman with the spools of thread would be a beautiful portrait.

Thanks for your words of encouragement. I am often inspired by your eternal optimist posts. Thanks for being a steady heart in our unsteady world.

Enjoy this beautiful time of the year my friend. I am grateful that our paths crossed ... you are wonderful!

Your kind sentiments always boost me ... make me a better person.

Merry Christmas to you and your beautiful family.

Love,

Kathy xo

Fort Lauderdale, Florida

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