At the exact moment night kiss me goodbye,
on the edge of a dying summer
I found hope at the tip of a pencil
that glided across line paper.

I wouldn’t call it the bottom
of Pandora’s box, but
for the first since I could remember
my heart started to beat again.

Not like a herd of racing horses
like they way poets fall in love,
but rather more like a leaky faucet
that has brought an end to this drought.

I ask don’t confuse this revelation
with a permanent conclusion.
It just a promise against odds
that recovery can be found in these words.