I am used to the silences. Rain still muddles
onto the ground, pounding of my thoughts on
the back of my head, I thought I heard you on
the front door, come to me and we will cuddle.
My heart reaches another level, a done deal
on time, I just wait. I hear a slight drip from the
drain outside, it shatters the silence in the pith
of two or three places, I wait, my heart will heal.
The cool air breeze goes through the branches,
your silhouette reflects on the pane of glass in
front, shimmering in tepid moonlight, in a spin,
a silent burrowing presence I get in tranches.
Comments