there are pages
yet unpublished
inkstain of a kiss
times and days
remembered
unto this
breath where i
another taste
a night
not long ago
words became a whisper
i love so
poems writ to places
shadows sworn to fall
binding us to something
more
than e’er we may recall
fingers bent
to fingers
silence bears us still
beyond the reach of leaving –
the memory of will
. . .