It must be the silence.
riddles on the other line-
rise of breath, slow muted sighs
raw red ripples
what are your rhythms
to me

I whispered for bravery into swollen knots of a weeping willow
sweeping scarred strength rough on my pulse
revealing to the roots my daily face to face with
not knowing
and the belief that I can wait

as a coo soothes a napping field
rocking, deep in care free slumber-  
I feel you too
will someday brush across my cheek, careful
sending troubles with a hush
quiet as the day shy's it's gaze to the night

There will always be a pause
escalating expectations, suspended seconds
when the door heaves closed
and I'm tugged into innocence
clutching the air for a blankie, holding close
the possibility everything will be alright

I keep a wilting daisy on the floor beside my bed
dampened by the shadows, colored by my eyes
it will dry completely, defeated on the carpet
yet there will be more
and I will always fill the vase with water