Patch

Here. A needle, thread and a patch.
Sew yourself back together as I lick my wounds.
The fight takes it's toll on both of us.
No winds of conflict stir now.
No creature makes a sound
Around the patch of wood
Now desolate.
We both sit, tired and weak.
The mud hides some deeper wounds.
I stand, now that I'm called out.
No bitterness is left.
No more of this today
And I will walk to pick you up
To carry.
By the way side I'll let you down.
There we can heal ourselves.
Our silence is needed to mend.
We can throw seeds on the mud.
Life will grow again there
If we both tend to the sprouts
In future.
I will do this act.
I was the vicious one.
I howl loud today.
The fight is over.