6:08 pm
there is a spot
where the trees used to grow
a spot where atop the hill with so many stairs
we stopped to look through the cast iron railing
at thousands of petals covering the ground
they seemed so small from where we were
those large trees with low hanging branches...
the ground beneath was fertile
dark and ready
it gave way beneath our feet
with a gentle kind of breathing
we walked beneath the tender foliage
with hearts so full of their soft scent
we talked and talked and never touched
until we reached the end of the row
then paused before heading back up the concrete stairs
we only stood for a moment, maybe two, in silence
with things that are always left unsaid between two people like us
the air was dry...
there had been no rain
but im convinced
i might have been baptized that day
saved and washed in the holiness
of pink magnolia rain
where the trees used to grow
a spot where atop the hill with so many stairs
we stopped to look through the cast iron railing
at thousands of petals covering the ground
they seemed so small from where we were
those large trees with low hanging branches...
the ground beneath was fertile
dark and ready
it gave way beneath our feet
with a gentle kind of breathing
we walked beneath the tender foliage
with hearts so full of their soft scent
we talked and talked and never touched
until we reached the end of the row
then paused before heading back up the concrete stairs
we only stood for a moment, maybe two, in silence
with things that are always left unsaid between two people like us
the air was dry...
there had been no rain
but im convinced
i might have been baptized that day
saved and washed in the holiness
of pink magnolia rain