Heaven-Sent Grace

You walked in like Sunday morning. Quiet light on one-off floors. Coffee cup and

entire laughter, like I'd been here once before. Fingers tracing chipped off marble.

You said, "Guess I missed my flight." Something in the way you smile

made the whole room feel all right. You feel heaven-sent. Like a soft

sun prayer I never meant. Falling in my hands, did I dream

you up or was this planned? Every time you breathe, all the weight

I carry starts to bend. If this isn't grace, then what is

it? You feel heavenly sent. Late night, uh.