i fold myself
into the
cracks and confines
of the
crumpled
paper
passions
of last year.
words
spill
into my hands
as little
river stones
might
and i
hope
that one
might be
a falling star
so i might
catch
a wayward
wish.
i fold myself
into the spaces
between
breaths and
heartbeats
sleeping in the rhythm
of the sky's
smile.
my heart catches
time
with the world itself
and i
laugh with
a mother's hands.