On my heart.

It takes time to write a name on my heart.

Once inscribed it stays for a lifetime.

To tear it out would be painful—and leave a scar—

so I’ll write yours in another place first.

I might write your name on wood, but that’s awkward

to carry around.  Wood gets lost

and forgotten.

I could write it in stone, but stone is cold

and committing.  It’s hard to work with and easy

to make mistakes.

I might write in the air, but no one

would see it.  A name is meant

to be shared.

To write in snow would be nice, but it’s cold

and it’s ice.  A name would simply

melt away.

No. Your name I’ll write in sand—sand is warm

and free.  I could write it big enough to see.

Though it will change and fade,

rewriting day after day will help me remember.

And once my calloused fingers trace the lines without thought

and the earth knows each letter before it appears,

I’ll write my name next to yours and—if it fits—

I’ll know your name is right for my heart.