Mend those fidus achates
Saw you bewildered,
Beneath the old white oak tree .
Counting your left days,debilitated
Dreaming for a stitch in time .
It was breaking ,
Shattering into the smallest pieces ,
I pondered for gaping ,
But instead became fidus achates.
Now we both spend time beneath the old white oak tree ,
Picking up the fragmented pieces
As I figured out the stitches you made ,were only to set you free .
As days passed by ,
The stitches got stronger .
But to make your way to heaven, was all along the try.
Now I sit beneath the white oak tree ,waving at you, as a fighter
Still think about that day ,
When I was too late
To help you stictch your final strings ,which may
Still leave you here with me today.