Cold Brew. Come over here and
say it again.
Say it to my face,
say it to my back and
say it to my hands,
the hands used to watching over you
and under you
and all around.
Say it to the mountains on my heart
and to the clouds I dream in.
Say it to the thread
that connects us
which starts at my lowest and
ends at your highest.
The tightest line
on which hope does its little dance.
