wherever now
your story waits
with no regard for years
where touch is felt –
I was made
to find you here
where every word
is silenced
by the music of a sigh
breath beneath the
shadow of a shiver

remembered me
this holy grace –
pressed against
a dream
wherein this evermore
I recognize
just the same
tho not the same
I find you like the first
as the pull
of ancient skies

. . .