lillies on your nightstand
When you told me you weren't sure
how we had fallen to this place,
I had just glanced over to your nightstand,
which stood beside the bed, once ours,
and noticed the leaves of my lily lifting
from their prolonged moody position
across the bottom of their terracotta pot.
Too many nights ignored and taken for granted
had left them sunken and in distress;
yet, it had only taken this one night of care
to begin reaching back towards prior glory.
A soft scent of spring drifted in the window
which had not been opened in so long
despite a love for wild breeze rocking me to sleep,
and, throughout the night, singing lullabies softly.
I reached my finger tips and toes slowly
to the utmost extremes of my cotton sheets,
as if each appendage were an eager explorer
taking back lost land in new conquest.
I smiled, because I knew how we had gotten here.
Eyes, suddenly heavy, closed without intent of explanation,
and I felt nothing but thankful.