He Smiles

He smiles.

A light in the corner is lit,
revealing the fearful shadows as
hauntings imagined through
scars healed by sand.

A troubling heap has passed,
and the smile turns the glass
freshening the fall to bring
those butterflies so suddenly.

He smiles. Oh, he smiles.

Weather so white and windy,
where the effort of flames
begrudge their shortcomings to
warm the inner heart alone,

melts the springtime roses where once
the ground lay wasted and
rough with grief; loss grown
in shrubs of thorns to bleed.

But he smiles

before me, eyes glittering
with something of desire. I
hold the moment so dear and true,
warming me as the sun rises.

Though tumults twisting my stomach,
I feel reborn to this life,
rosy cheeks heating the air
and words faltering against giggles.

I smile.