This poem is the original version of Cut from the same Cloth. The word woven connected the idea of my wife and I being bound by a greater force.
We are woven together like threads of cotton
Rough textures braided between silk
A blind man’s fingers could explain our silence
The quiet joy and predictable anger
Good times intermixed with times hard to forget
Those periods when you brought me down, I prepared to drown
The times you were drowning and you fought against saving
When our fabric was cut away, our DNA remained the same
Drawn to each other like lack is to plenty
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