The Flow of You

Do you know the wind-chimes
grow silent waiting for you in
the heat of missing, of yearning?

I do not love, but one. I do not
live, but in your arms. There is
an aching like the sea feels for

the shore. Even now, time ages
lost in becoming. Even now,
your love note has been read

until it tears. There is a softness
to the sky tonight, the sound of
petals falling.