was a stone
became my comfort
polished into glass
carried from the creek
in mid-july

as proof
of something sweeter
than honeysuckle bloom
the smile you gave
to me –
a lullabye

remembered
by the sparrow
e’en now he comes to sing
alight with notes
the wind has never heard

secrets
we were keeping
flutter through the trees
verses strung
as silences to word

of some days
I am certain
another time will be
a reason for returning –
here I am

anchored by the notion
of love –
a weightless stone
polished to remembrance
in my hand

. . .