Is this world I see, with you, today
Same as that I saw, alone, yesterday?
In stealth did it come that thought
Like that childhood game ‘I see – I see not’.
Was it by the sea? Then, the weeds were
Ghosts’ tangled tresses, with frothy gurgle
Of death from dark depths with white above.
With you, the ebb and flow of pregnant tide
And my passion tread the same measure,
From green shallows till the azure faraway.
In the train? The past’s already vague -
Inert, staring blindly through grills; now,
Pressed against you, heart’s chugging along.
Around the lake? Then, with self’s company,
With blank verse to fill blank life, mute;
Now - walking, holding, living - silence speaks.
I had to tell you, it’s late I know.
I had to see your eyes when I told you.
Tired you must be, it’s late I know,
When you turn away with “Whatever”.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
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