Mended

My 40-year-old Panda is a balding geriatric
Torn limbs tethered by
Mum’s prehistoric stitching
Long-ago, far-away

A Shakespearean sentinel
Still reporting for duty a century on
Custodian of wintery whispers and summery secrets
Glassy-eyed ancient relic
Arms outstretched in a perpetual hug

When his seams finally split
Sterile scents of hospital grade disinfectant
Anxious red-rimmed parent eyes and
pulsing heart monitors will spill
Leaking love and loss
After decades of enfolding them
At the epicentre of his soul

His heart still chants with mine
Echoing imperfection
Soothing the patched hole of my heart
With songs of survival