Tuesday, November 5, 2013


So still she sits and listens to him,
Absorbing every word.
There is a strangeness to her silence.
As if she fears breaking his flow.

She thinks he is a genius
He thinks she is beautiful.
The way she listens to him,
With her head cocked to one side.

There is something breathless about how they relate.
A tangible quality that hangs in the air.
In the dark depths of the night they keep each other company,
From afar.

There is no entanglement.
Rather a lingering.
When one dies the other will be wounded.
This is a certainty.

(16 June 2012)

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