The Art of Evening Allure

For evenings that deserve to be remembered.

She does not arrive all at once
like the evening,
she unfolds quietly,
without asking to be seen.

Time has moved through her
like a tide
taking, returning,
softening what no longer needs to be held.

What remains is not louder,
but clearer.

A kind of knowing,
like satin silk against the skin
gentle, certain, her own.

And somewhere between
holding on and letting go,
she remained.

Soft Surrender