In response to dVerse Poets Pub:
https://wp.me/p1GTyJ-8R5
The Way You Stay
Love is not the rose left on the table,
not the red ribbon of a day marked
for remembering.
It is the cup rinsed and set beside mine
before I notice it was empty.
It is the light left on
when I am late.
It is knowing which silence means
tired
and which means
don’t ask yet.
Love is the hand at the small of my back
crossing a crowded room.
The steadying touch
no one else sees.
It is warmth in winter
that does not announce itself —
only lingers.
It is the remembering
of how I take my tea,
how I unravel,
how I return.
Love does not shout.
It stays.
— Maggie
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