of riches
I have nothing
but the memory of love
gathered close as breath
near as touch

the soul remembers
lest I faint
was lost
tho I am not
faith has kept me
tethered to the trees

drifting
on an evening gale
life restored
as choice to be
held within a promise –
a seeker sure to see

the world is changing
as am I
as e’er were we
to start
racing toward forever
not a breath apart

as certain grace
a holy place
reserved
of none I own
a tender prayer
is whispered there
faraway
is here
and I can’t tell the difference
between love
and letting go

let the truth
in living
fold around
the memory of where
I’ll be
some wiser sun
will pull me from the branches
trailing winds
where once
I was set free

. . .