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bellbuckle2012

how soft
become
the shadows shift
into the sweetest fold
of almost was
a dream caught fire
to burn
within the cold

a telling
of a night not far
and secrets lay behind
where then
they might
as we were found
this close
another time

dreaming of
a place beyond –
the warm embrace
of spark
a wisp of knowing
deeper still
than longing to the bark

gathered as
immortal ink –
the poet’s heart to free
a folded note
of birth rewrote –
I carry you
with me

. . .

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