It Began with Ivy

It began with the ivy

curling up the side of a church

in a small abandoned parking lot.

It began with the rain

landing softly on their faces,

cleansing the ivy.

It began with two hands.

Ten interlocked fingers

growing together gently.

It began with the dance,

more beautiful than music,

quieter than the rain.

It began with hope.

Braided fingers twirling in slow circles

and water kissing their faces.

It began with whispers

from an inclination, feeling, need,

conviction.

Eventually, the entwined fingers

and cooled wet faces

danced on from the parking lot.

But the church,

and the ivy,

and the hope

Are there yet.