filling the dead spaces in the crevices of my lungs,
a flurry of fresh
cold wind that leaves me gasping and,
The sound of sleepy silence,
lapping at our feet
on those long morning drives to nowhere,
where all we hear is our breathing
warm and kind against our tired faces and,
The sound of your heart,
steady,
safe,
amid the noise of the giddy crowd & my own frantic pounding one
be still and hear,
The sound of a broken soul,
beating for the lost, sick, dying,
and for the One who makes all things right again,
The sound of love,
warm coffee in the morning light
gentle tunes hummed till they bleed with time