Be Leaf Turned

photo by Aachal Lal at Unsplash

There are two wings
to every prayer,
“Help me!”
“Let me help you.”

I won’t lose my hearing
while you speak.
I won’t lose my balance
while you dance.

Your notebook sang
into a corner,
the echo made room
for another entry.

The germ
of the idea
is only contagious
when conscious.

The someday wind
brings scattered hope,
now, and again,
returns favors.