
The cotton she is made of was well loved, thus washed and stretched thin.
Fearing further damage I stitched very gently. That didn’t stop a gap appearing here and the insides peeking there.
Where it breaks, I mended.
She holds out her arms for an embrace, yet ready to let go at the ready.
Written on the inside of her arms: Hold but lightly.
I call her Gladys.