fit to my story
your fondness for words
as tender the telling
another becomes
of where
we are now –
stilled in our knowing
the weight of the light
unburdened
by love

where on the map
show me the reasons
were crossed
as light made its way
to the black
grow me an orchard
seeded by passions –
already you know
(it shows in your smile)

where you go –
I am going
why you came –
I can’t say
but for means of the story
and chapters
retraced

by your breath
on my shoulder
where words are no use
winters made less
by ways –
I’m to wonder

of where
might the chapters
be written tonight
when flush to the willing
of one moment more –

your story is folded
(so sweet)
into mine

. . .