were there reasons
not to notice
the way the cedars swayed
remembering
the twilight waltz
of moon

to resurrect
emotions –
when thought our time
was passed
were falling in
of falling out
goodbye

far more
than just a need
confessed
of strings no longer played

but once upon
a Tuesday night
when someone held my hand
how warm
my recollection
of fingers weaved
with mine

as silence
gave permission
to open wide my heart –
a moment
not for waiting
was the same as breath
become

. . .