pages lay empty
at the edge of my pen
waiting this fragile
heart to reveal
what was mine
what is left
of places we loved
a sweet revelation –
i remember it
still

stirred
by desire
assured of my fate
tho lies have been known
to tarry me now
as the first chill
of winter
carries me back
to a time i was lost –
to the place
i was found

. . .