Linger

My gift

is not in fixing

but in stepping back

with paintbrush poised

or cordless drill

or flashlight

 

to say this is broken

and breathe

in the woundedness

and possibility

 

to find ways of lingering

but not overlong,

touched by what is here

and what may come to be

 

with a very fond farewell

to what might have been

 

and a smile

soft in welcome.

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.