The First Spark

Between Breath & Bone

I wasn’t looking for anything

not a hand, not a moment,

not the kind of spark that rearranges breath.

I was just tired,

carrying a week that felt too heavy for my skin.

Then you spoke.

Not with intention,

not with desire,

just the easy curiosity of two strangers

killing time on a concrete planter

while the night unraveled around us.

But fate,

with its blunt humor,

sent a man stumbling into the space between us.

A breath, a brush

and something in the universe

shifted one quiet inch.

We laughed,

escaped the noise,

found the kind of corner table

where the world softens

and conversations start breathing differently.

Somewhere between your questions

and my answers,

something warmed in the marrow of me.

As the party wound down,

your hand found the small of my back

a gentle, guiding touch,

nothing meant,

everything felt.

And just like that,

light flared through a place in me

I thought had gone dim forever.

A single touch,

and all my quiet bones

remembered themselves.

Reviews

[Chris]

We seem to never forget those "moments" - until we do, and then we remember something ...some thing and spend a life's time trying and trying to re-live them.

[Curly Grace]

We carry those moments without realizing it. I’m grateful the piece brought one to the surface.