til I am faded
into pitch –
the memory of touch
almost erased
with no one to remember
why it was
or what it meant
how deep the soul’s
surrender
to something deeper still
written to the places
love has been

I’ve made my peace
had my say
with verses
o’er the years –
tempted fate more times
than were confessed
borrowed
from the ledger
of tomorrows left to spare
gave my love at times
for something less

a name
almost forsaken
awakes from tired dreams
to warm against
the heart –
with all that matters
a silent recollection
of days
beyond our count
and nights
we waited long
the morning after

. . .