The crisp sound
of leaves
underfoot.
Autumn air,
and perhaps
a
good book.
Ebbing waves,
life just begun.
Every night,
a little sun.
Softly,
like flecks
of snow,
to sleep.
Full moon
promises
made
to keep.
Gently,
as light
over ink,
over canvas.
Evergreen,
flowers.
Full bloom
At last.

"Let every word
that these hands
will ever
write
be a love
letter
from me
to you."