You looked so unhappy when I saw you,
the frown on your face
 the soft erosion of a mountainside,
jagged, elated peaks worn down 
by the unbearable weight of time.
I want to reach out,
say something,
but I am only eloquent on paper
and no one listens to me
and I have no one to listen to
while you must listen to the world.
My voice would be less
than the brush of echo across the canyon.
Still,
I hope you–
as I feel the bittersweet
heart-clench at dawn as I know I wake

and the world wakes with me–
I hope you feel
that your foundation 
and mine
run deeper than time and care.
You are not alone.
I am not alone.
I hope we both remember.