We begin
with bright signs—
a word
with more behind
than beside.

Then comes
the grind—
mean days
mean moods
the thinning
of too much
being kind.

It could end there—
small hurt
gone tired—
but sometimes
we go back
not to what was
but to what
was wired deeper.

Meaning less
becomes meaning more—
not loud but sure—
two hands
looking for something
worth knowing—
two hands
not clinging
choosing to stay.