Stand down sentry of the heart your watch has ended.
You listen for permission from the descendants of time. Long dead they leave their obituary of condemnation, a fingerprint that no one sees but you.
The soft fingers that beguiled the child still build blockades to keep passion in.
The bad hand has been gone nigh forty years and scars are not a sacred treasure. Who do you keep them for but yourself to stoke the sadness you admit only when twilight has stripped you and night has folded you in.
Stand down sentry of the heart your watch has ended your vigilance has mocked the perfection of this minute.
Found this lost on page 2, but such a gem, Martie! It happens along at exactly the right time for me, those lines: "stand down, sentry of the heart, stand down or light the way." Holding past hurts but hopeful, demanding another chance. This touched me deeply.