you taught me
the simple act of breathing in
was inspirational
breathe
breathe
breathe
dive
breathe again
become
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She breathed in
She breathed in the hillside mist and the mist became myth and, as she exhaled, once-untrue stories became.
Don’t gently touch my hair
Don’t gently touch my hair while I am sleeping. Please don’t blow sweet kisses on the hairline of my neck. You don’t sleep here any more now, do you? No. I feel the draught from the summer-open window. Please don’t breathe the words I cannot hear.
Wait
You smile. And I wait.
You breathe. And I wait.
You smile, no words.
I breathe and I wait.
