again
you
have
returned –
a
bruised leaf,
not
quite a flower
but
just as beautiful
in
certain lights –
at
these touch-points
of
return, I don’t know
what
you want from me
–
comfort, kindness,
a
soft-word-caress;
you
seek safety, solace –
but
there are times
when
even I
have
nothing to give
