how gently move
these brittle bones
from evermore to waking
eternities
beneath my pillow
cold

were traded once
as came a dream –
get me back
by morning
before the sun –
her fingers brushing
gold

to places
braided silver
are memories remiss
– a photograph
tendered not
by name

a blush
of april blossom
tangled in my hair –
moments lent
of heaven
to reclaim

pages yet
unburdened
of all that I might say
were secrets meant
my senses
to restore

a haunting recollection
of windows
open still –
a silent moon
and footprints
on the floor

how gently move
these brittle bones
from evermore to waking

. . .