Inflection

 

He was an echo across waters;

soft chords that played

when my eyes were closed

 

still waiting for the chorus;

 

I pretended clouds were mountains

crepe paper roses tightly in my grasp;

 

a dream I had grown accustomed to,

then, there he stood in front of me;

an unexpected angel

 

harp strumming calm

to the wreckage I once called life.

 

 

~