completion

the work of time.
a slow, strange unfolding.
how much time could pass...
'till that one day,
time became a simple story,
a long, bitter-sweet history.

a memory,
a symbol of grace, upon her chest.

no more words could be said.
except, three, a vow said many times,
said only from one mouth,
three words, never misunderstood,
only reciprocated from another's eyes, smile,
and a napkin a long, long time ago.

and one day,
all this time came to an end.
she conceded it was time,
for completion,
and time to start a new story.

the folds of time, now, all close as one.
this time, with all her love,
(more than you can ever imagine)
it was,
the very best she could.

PoemsASHLEY CHILDS