She lingers at the door, silent except
for the half smile singed on her lips
like a historical marker trying to freeze
a moment in time. We’re older but I swear
she hasn’t aged a day since this morning —
those eyes still coyly tow me in
and I’m a wreck for her. I could build
a monument to this moment, one of many
that holds a place at the center of me —
cemented to last well beyond my life.
She lingers at the door, but calls me home.
© 2021 | Phillip Knight Scott