You arrived like a rumor of spring
in a season that swore it would never thaw.
No trumpet, no thunder,
just color sneaking into my grayscale.

You didn’t ask me to rise,
you just stood there blooming
until I remembered how.

Your gentleness rearranged my gravity.
Your roots whispered to mine,
and somewhere between the ache and the awe,
I began to soften again.

I used to think love had to roar.
Now I know it can hum.

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