Tracing (for Helen)

Tracing

(for Helen)

Listening to my friend

over the phone,

my finger traced a path

between flower and flower

on the jacquard cloth.

Friendship meant then

the spaces between flowers

where bees are busy

gleaning the things we

can't seem to touch...

the threads which

show our care - how

and when to bloom,

when to hold on.

She does not know

how I've traced the hours

between now

and her last call.

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