The Thread We Keep

Beneath branches older than memory,
we sat—
two hearts, one thread.

It didn’t bind.
It didn’t pull.
It simply remained.

A red whisper wrapped around our pinkies,
holding every laugh,
every tear,
every moment we thought might break us.

In the hush of that sacred space,
I saw it—
woven through the years,
through her hands,
through mine.

No matter where I go…
this is the thread we keep.