You touch me,
and time forgets its name.
The sky leans in,
carrying your breath
across the trembling earth.

No promise is spoken,
yet the leaves believe you.
They rise-
not to flee,
but to follow.

I hold you as one
holds flame in the dark:
not to possess it,
but to see.

Each moment with you
is the wind-
invisible,
but shaping everything
it passes through.

You are not here
to stay,
yet you stay
in every sway of the branches,
in every hush
before a storm.

Wild is the wind-
and so are you.