It was much more than
wind, it was as if
your spoken verse
pushed me

it was early
just before
the radiance revealed
cloaked mist lands
wet in dew

reading what
I received in slumber
you broke the silence
in the effort to mend
the loose stitches

but there is nothing...
the life rushed out
leaving not a simple drop
stitching would not change
what I lost

so I converse in the act
of silence
hoping that maybe
your tailwind
that pushed me
would die