It is true I am with you,
in the here and the now,
and the hand, that you hold,
tethers me to you.
And I hear, when we walk,
you keeping step, with my breath,
as each tread plants feet
firmer, in our story.
But mine is a heart
with a languid selfish want
and will not yield
to my insistence
in the present.
And so I listen
in the quiet,
to the thrum
that holds me steady —
to the echo of
hearts beating,
in two places.
STK