Chihuly Garden and Glass, Seattle, Washington
6 hours ago
in the fibers of me.
I cannot separate where you end...
and I begin.
almost a stranger now.
if you wonder...
that you walked again into the flames
and fell into a ring of fire…
As she turned away I gently asked, “Why do you keep coming back?”
Her lip trembled.
“That sign,” she said pointing. “It was my daughter’s favorite poem.”
“Was…” I said. “Was?
She turned away.
“Wait!” I shouted. I ran inside, grabbed it, and held it out. “Please take this…”
‘Was’ can be a terribly powerful word.