I’ll walk off remembering this.

I spent October alone in that library.

Too proud to seek help, an old problem. 

I slept on the couch and silently hummed 

Until evening crept in. It was a cold winter. 

Together we cross the frozen freeway,

But at the end, I bid you goodbye. 

I walk away as you stand there, under the flickering lamp light. 

A meditation at dawn; soft is my heart. 

Redbud petals bleed from branches; so many I can’t count. 

It’s always over before I’m willing to admit. 

Yet still, I cling to the piecemeal quality of a memory. 

The beauty left inside, how quietly hope blooms. 

What is forgiveness, if not this humble gratitude?