Nick

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2003-01-02 14:40:06 (UTC)

Bridges

She found me musing
between the drapes and vases.
There among the stuff of ordinary life.

She asked what,
but only with an eyebrow,
that slowly arched into a tender question.

I was remembering a goodbye,
said forever,
on a night in a time when I lived habitually,
never suspecting I'd soon
learn a new lesson.

What is
can become
what was.
Rapidly.

And later I learned that
the opposite is true,
if you listen.

Someday I'll tell her I lie in the darkness,
awake while she sleeps.
It's the moon's fault.
I hear it singing - joyful to spend light on her body.


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