Innocence

You still haunt me,
As we wind back the clock,
Feeding the birds,
Talking to pigeons
Disregarding notions of emptiness

Love is insistent as logic, reliable as heartbeat
Obsessive about the weather
On a cold Thursday morning,

Yet bound by your voice
That echoes an eternity

I guessed you’d pick up echoes –
No one else could hear

This ground-bass to mourning
This hum below the surface where the angels play

Above the swirling stars lights our beginnings, under the tree of innocence