The Last Line Waits

Two paths met the trellis from left side and right;
Lex came with Aydin; Alice met Aralynn in light.
They stopped at apple-crate stage, all four on the floor:
“We reached the ending,” said Lex, “but what came before?”

A shadow-cut pinwheel lay flat on one crate;
Alice raised it gently. “First breathe. Then we wait.”
Hum, tap, puff, hush— four sounds in the air.
Its shadow showed four little windows down there.

Lex hummed. Alice tapped. Aralynn gave one puff.
Aydin held the quiet; the first round was enough.
Hum, tap, puff— three sounds, one gone.
But one shadow-window faded with dawn.

Hum, tap— two sounds. The pinwheel turned less.
Aralynn said, “Try harder?” Alice answered, “Let’s guess:
Did our breath change—or light—or the way that we stood?”
Lex checked the dew-shadow. “The light changed. That’s good.”

Hum— one sound. Before garden bell corner,
They turned toward the stage, not one step farther.
The pinwheel was unfinished; one cut still was due.
“We can finish tomorrow when the dawn shines through.”

No sounds remained. One rhyme-space stayed wide.
Aralynn asked, “What last line belongs at its side?”
Lex waited. Alice waited. The pinwheel lay still.
Quiet Aydin named it: “Tomorrow, we will.”