A narrow beam of light enters a dark room through a small opening.

If today finds us
not at the end,
but somewhere softer—

in the hush between
what was
and what could still be—

then let it begin
with your eyes
and our hands reaching,

not to hold on,
but to meet again
fully awake.

Let it begin
where the guilt finally slips
from your shoulders,

and you remember
that what we built
was never a mistake,

only misnamed
by fear.

If today finds you choosing—
not out of pressure
or obligation,

but from the still place
inside you
that always knew—

then know this:

I never stopped
standing here,
even when I let you go.

I never walked away.

If today is the day
we shed the weight,

if your heart returns
not as an apology,
but as promise,

I will not need
to be convinced.

Only asked.

And I will say yes—

without delay,
without conditions.

Yes.

Because love like ours
is rare.

And I am still here,

if today
finds us.


A little music for the moment.


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Occasional poems, stories, and late-night transmissions from The B Side of Town.

“There is still music in rooms we haven’t found.”

© The B Side of Town. All rights reserved.

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