There You Are

I found you, finally.
In a sea of beige,
cotton-poly blends,
shams and half-truths,
vacation souvenirs.

Deep, warm,
muted but
quietly fiery,
refusing to be
one single slice
of a color wheel.

I saw the tears,
the holes.
Nobody wants that.
Disfigured, undesirable.
Defects.
Worth less.

I imagined
days and nights,
run-ins with sharp objects,
insects,
and less sharp people.
Every hole
a punch in the ticket.

Burrowing
into the wool,
the moth-eaten
loveliness of that life,
I thought:
I can mend,
I can amend.

And I whispered:
There you are.