You stand on the brink,
a teetering seesaw: how
to decide.
If you choose that way, my love,
you will never
know.

how someone becomes unique to you,
suddenly, slowly; how they
mold to you like feet to
a shoe, how their emotions are
played in the eyes, discreet,
for you only.

how winter mornings, frosty,
cold, burst into bloomy
springs, how
it feels to almost slip on fallen petals,
the gentle cascade of pink and white.

how the air smells from
an open window; how
to crack it just right, how to
stay warm at night.

how to know which secrets are safe,
which to keep and to hold; how
to react when someone becomes
newly themselves, when you are
confused, how to hope.

how to draw rainbows and
make them real, how
to save money, the drop of coins
and smell of bills, how to
make a wish.

how words, old,
overused, can make all the difference;
how pictures can remind you.

You stand on the brink,
a breath.
how to live.