Your Hand

We have repeatedly felt the grief of separation
Profound fingertips were supposed to have arrived
The beat of the rain is quick. I recite sorrow into it
The immortal temperature dwells in blessing hands
A moments profile is falling asleep with a dim field of vision
Felt a faint heart beat, and heard your whisper
I carry my dragging feet as I turn to go on
The shaking voice has long been forgotten
discovered that we have lost the end of a precious feast
Gentle breath wrapped in spring
A sunbeam loop streams through leaves of trees in summer
Fallen leaves sway and connect with each other in autumn
The morning clam repeats farewells in winter
The change of the seasons reminds me of words I never know
The steps are even, and they go on. A sign of an end.