was this
for warmth I waited
crooked boards and thread –
a light
to ease the dark
above the pines
distance traveled
who am I to squander
what remains
to still my ache
with wonder
what of you
was ever mine

another season
captive to your eyes

was this
the home i never left
when fell into
the pond –
drowned one summer day
mid july
did you grieve
til dreams were tendered
by words
that never came –
an ancient map
stars we called
by name

was this
the chance forever took
one winter as we lay
curled against each other –

do you remember

. . .