She took a risk expecting nothing in return,
Embraced the dying embers in the swallows of her palms
And planted tiny seeds of warmth in the centre of its ebbing heart.
She wasn’t brave or sharp or any way remarkable,
All she did was listen
A single unsteady pulse playing to the tune of hers
Her hands were worn but her heart was soft,
Like the first drops of rain
Never breaking into any less than power
The sound of life tearing through the skies
Raining down the streaks of night and day
Until the embers in her palms
Rose and reignited
And grew to a shadow, to a breath,
To the flicker in his
Beautiful, bold eyes.