The leaves talked to me
of what life could smell, what we
could breathe
on the other side of the world.
As they wriggled, teased, danced
with the wind,
which also participated
in my conversation with the Earth.
Moonlight shining
on the surface of the leaves
and the rim of my
stained mug. This presence feels
like eternity,
emerging out of the warm silence
the truth that could be, of

I ran outside,
like a madwoman.
I stared at your crescent rim, for what felt like
eternity, and
whispered his name.
I don’t know which stopped me in my tracks,
uttering his name,
for it has been
too long, or
the rise on my spine of
a wish which doesn’t rest. My memory
returned to what I wrote
a few years ago,

when you permeated through all of
me, sank
into my consciousness,
in the affairs of my feet
shuffling on the busy streets,
amidst blinding neon lights,
I stared at you, attentively
and staggeringly,

this time, within the frame of the trees.
Your expanding shape
beyond what our eyes
could see, could listen to.
Are you giving me your word?
Are you
saying yes?
Thank you.