pressed script

*for brownin*

i know
the script your heart writes in
sharp strokes give way
to curves that hang like sage and saffron
in an evening crosswind

i know
you worry
that i will pass it by
as if it sat on a subway stairwell
and i was too busy to catch a train

i know
the fears of letting fade
the writing of one who cares
on pages of time between them
i tie them all together carefully