When he came in, she was there.
When she looked at him,
he smiled. There were lights
in time’s wave breaking
on an eternal shore.
Seated at table—
no need for the fracture
of the room’s silence; noiselessly
they conversed. Thoughts mingling
were lit up, gold
particles in the mind’s stream.
Were there currents between them?
Why, when he thought darkly,
would the nerves play
at her lips’ brim? What was the heart’s depth?
There were fathoms in her,
too, and sometimes he crossed
them and landed and was not repulsed.

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S'identifier Commentaires...
Swallow Song
plus de 3 ans

I love this poem!

Patricia May Neiderer
plus de 6 ans

the static felt
raising of hair
as they reach
through the air
feeling the eyes looking
you rubbing your head
as the sight tickles

Préféré par...

Patricia May Neiderer Y. J. Hall

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