Tender
is my lips,
murmuring over my sister’s burning brow

Tender
is my eyes,
glazing in the purple sunset of your memory

Tender
is my fingers,
running through my mother’s graying hair

Tender 
is my breath,
smoking white in a cold night,
wisps curling over in quiet longing

Tender 
is my silence,
when words refuse to sound
and only silence wraps 
its gentle shawl around us.