keeping score

We wait for thunder—visions, vows,a life turned on a dime—and miss the whisper that keeps returningto the same hallway of the heart. It’s the sand-grit habits,the tiny tilt of tone,the almost-truth, the hurried prayer,the kindness we postpone. Here is where the battle circles back:the thought I entertain,the screen I do not need,the word I could…