The Morning We Walked

You ran ahead of me
today across the hill
and each of your strides
sent waves through the grass
bending the blades with your joy.

When I reached out to
hold your hand in mine,
my fingers closed and my hand
disappeared as yours still stands,
and the wind dances gladly on.

I breathed the morning's dew as
the growth and ground yielded
their lavish petrichor, which
filled me with a scent as
sweet as your laughter.

Pink petals of fallen blossoms
litter the streets and mingle
with trash in the gutters
covering the concrete like
the tender rest of snowfall.

Walking down the sidewalk
there are countless downcast
faces busy avoiding gaze:
searching for refuge, they
ignore those they pass by.

But I know it's your face
hiding behind their's which
is why I always offer kind eyes
to remind them and myself
that love has not yet died.

I know it's your heart I hear
echoing behind each of my beats
like footsteps following closely
down the hall we both walk,
toward the door we both will open.