Dewdrops

I stopped waiting
to see dewdrops
on straight blades
of wild grass,
a long time ago. But
they still came
in my dreams.

somewhere
in the moistness
and heat
of a long night
alone,
they lived
awhile, and
they died.

today,
I woke up
to my face
cupped
in your hands,
a wet kiss
lingering
on my forehead,
a light love song
shattering the silence
upon your heavy lips,
a slow dance
with you,
in your arms,
and I felt
those little dewdrops,
collecting them,
stringing them,
holding them
in my blessed palms.