if ever
i were asked to give –
of everything i own
were sorrows but for tears –
a garden grown
names repeated quietly
indifference to the night
– of touch
the heart reminded
by failing light

would e’er i know
or e’er i dream –
no cause for letting go
of places
i was meant to love you so
lest ashes blow
or winters grace –
some wreath upon my door
or longing fit
as hands i held
before

would e’er i curse
the sure release –
of moments gathered here
of lives to come
but none as this –
so dear
my knees to bruise
i know they will
i fall most every time
repeating words
of gratefulness –
for all was once
(is ever) mine

. . .