Ill-matched threads

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life,

and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth -

it's she who drives the loudmouths from the hall

and clears it for a different celebration

where the one guest is you.

In the softness of evening it's you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,

the unspeaking center of her monologues,

With each disclosure you encompass more

and she stretches beyond what limits her,

to hold you

(Rilke)