she breathes the chains out of her lungs on a moan
soft and warm at last...
to think she was so worried about tomorrows coming.
sunshine pours through honeysuckle leaves and into her mind;
she smiles for the first time in a month,
wrapping her arms around a love greater than she will ever be.
maybe this is what peace means, she thinks,
a gentle hand around her neck and another at the small of her back —
it's not quiet. it's singing. i see.