a hope, a prayer

I will catch the next bus
to your side of town
if you brew up a pot of coffee
I will knock twice real quiet
if you promise to answer quickly
I will tell you every single itch
I have felt on my skin
over the past two years
if you will listen intently
and follow up with a kiss
I will ask about your mother
if you tell me she is better once again
and back to tending to her garden
I will help you with the dishes
if I can dry my hands in your hair
I won’t ask you what happened last summer
if you tell me all your future plans
and if you are unsure, lost, or have none
I promise not to question you
if you can tell me why
I write your name in each day’s lonely sky
I will tell you how it looks different every time
if you tell me to stay
when the sun comes up
I promise not to say a word
I won’t even make a sound