She used to talk to me
About her life
Happily sometimes,
Sometimes not
Scenes from her inner landscape
I would marvel at the delight she took
Happily sometimes,
Sometimes not
Scenes from her inner landscape
I would marvel at the delight she took
In her own wordplay
Watching her mouth and eyes dance
The sounds in her words rising and falling
Like shadows on the wall
Never failing to enclose me
But after that night I took her to the cafe
To listen to the cellist
Tell his sad stories with a reedy moan,
To the un-syncopated rain,
Her voice has gone,
Watching her mouth and eyes dance
The sounds in her words rising and falling
Like shadows on the wall
Never failing to enclose me
But after that night I took her to the cafe
To listen to the cellist
Tell his sad stories with a reedy moan,
To the un-syncopated rain,
Her voice has gone,
She speaks not to me.
She has taken to leaving me scribbled clues
Of her inescapable musings
On random shreds of paper,
She has taken to leaving me scribbled clues
Of her inescapable musings
On random shreds of paper,
Like breadcrumbs of thought
And has me clinging
For the lost embrace
Of what she no longer says
And has me clinging
For the lost embrace
Of what she no longer says
-LFB, 2010
I think this is brilliant.
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