It may be when the sunlight strikes the sill
A certain way. Your hand once rested there,
And so, remembering that, my heart stands still,
As one who has been running stops for air.
Or in a crowd some friend may say your name,
Or just a name that's similar to yours,
And all my pulses leap as leaps a flame
When someone adds a twig. These are your lures.
The snares your hand and voice have set for me
Are many as the things I hear and see.