of the whole

as slight as a firefly, this
furtive glance back into
the memory of your
hurricane hands leavened
into mine the first time. i
remember slickened streets,
lampposts watching over
our gait. both of us
in awe of a possibility.

has it
really been years?
has it
indeed come to pass?

that first
touch of hands, hidden then
now on full display.

i am your bolt
of electricity, charging still.
every moment and instance
of you, your eyes my looking
glass.

part of my whole, whole
of my part.

walk with
me a little further, hold
my tired hand a little tighter;

tell me your fable, i will
tell you mine.