The sound.

 

She swung on the red swing next to you as her hair flowed behind her.

The golden sunlight overflowed while you were lost in her laugh

She turned her auburn eyes to you as the swings stopped squeaking

The sun glowed behind her when she smiled at you

And it was there, that you first heard the sound…

She breathed slow as your fingers traced an imaginary line

There was a tightness in your chest during this most daring of expeditions

She looked up at you

And there was that sound again…

She stood in the kitchen with noise in the background

Staring out at the neighbor cat on the fence as millions of thoughts drew worry lines on her face

It was then that you held her in your very human arms

And there was that sound again…

That sound seemed to permeate the weakest moments of you

The appropriations of time that fear gave way to chance

The sound of comfortable silence in which you dared to move.

Thoughts came and went, but in that instance, you acted.

In that great sound: genuine, authentic, and complete quiet,

you chose.

And all stood still.