there’s a certain kind of silence there, so
rich it fills your lungs with honeysuckle roots.
restorative ones, like sweet memories flowing
from this hope-filled golden-rimmed book.
hands surrounding notes from the frame
of grand pianos voicing songs it sings like
soft whispers across marble halls telling
trial and triumph to stillness.
only, I can’t find the way myself, here in this
place He takes my hand, only He can show me in.

forever to be
the sweetest part of all.