The Patchwork

Once upon a time, tiptoeing, in
Honey cordial lies so soothing
Amidst festering animosity
Truth seemed as lemon to sore
But, on, stress cracks creep up
We, vaseful of decaying daisies
Their hearts have grown withered
So, I cry because no one else is
My eyes have not crumbled to dust
With a teary love hard talk blend
A rough spackle concocted to mend
Time's proper pressure sets glue
When sometimes, often, on occasion
I view such patchwork futile
See there, leaking through the chips
I find I'm too close to the shards
Pause, step back till we're in full view
See, our vase still stands together