They Must Be Fixed

 By Kelly McDonald

There it is, that urge to reach out  

and touch ev'ry broken thing.

A hunger that grows, I must fill

the stretching orb of emptiness.

A plan not right, a missing piece,

something undone, needing repaired.

I can't ignore the muddled setting

in digital charms we collect.

The glowing clock, it's time not right,

adjusted, now matching the rest.

Tanks not empty, a quarter left,

needs filled to push my hunger back.

I stew on what will make them whole,

twist of knob, line of code, small repair?

When set aright, my hunger leaves

and calm returns, to fill the gap

that grew from something tipped awry

now tinkered straight, the whole restored.

When family cries, or friends retreat

from anguish, grief, and pain not staved. 

That urge to fix is just as strong.

Words of love, reveals how I hope

life perks up. Friendship returns, and

smiles signal, a repair was made.