The words are all wrong,
nothing seems to rhyme,
and there is no flowing.
Sitting alone watching,
waiting for inspiration,
hoping for a moonlit sign.
The neighbour waves,
stops for a moment and points
towards the starlit night.
A shooting star,
We look towards the horizon without saying a word;
you, and I know we are beyond those words.
Yet we dream, we laugh, and we think of one word;
we look, we think, and we say love’s word.
The weight of your words,
heavy on my broad shoulders
as the night sets in.
Words were spoken, they never existed before.
We talked about change, difference, radical noises.
Our speech was louder, clear convictions, true directions.
Words are spoken in guarded tones, censured.
We talk about survival, sleeping in, making sad noises.
Our speech is quieter, muffled opinions, limited directions.
When there was nothing left to say, no words worth speaking, those times were the loudest.
You lived in the noise of it all, trying to find the quiet places and spaces for you, yourself.
When you spoke, the words wouldn’t come out and you found that there’s no relief.
From pink lips drift words, move along the wind, through the rivers, down into the valleys and the dark hidden places.
Creatures once asleep awaken to hear those words and feel the call to her again.
Adding sherry to chicken
is like adding your sweet
words to my day.
The taste is so smooth