1.6.05

I turn your card over and over
in my hand, a single salutation celebrating
me, us, and the simplicity of your words
frustrates me, my insatiable desire to name
what it is that exists between us, spell it out
in broad strokes across the sand
though I know it like the life line, love
line that so delicately traces my hand.
I always did, really, though I never felt it
as strongly as I did today, sucker punched
somewhere between my morning coffee
and your phone call. In one moment
it all made sense, fell into place
like your leg on my lap after
a late breakfast on Sunday
afternoon and I realized, there
in the sunshine glistening between two
pairs of shiny rubber boots, hands clasped
since youth, was something beautiful: rare
silent moment so eloquently captured, picture
worth more than a billion metaphors.

04/27/2007

Posted on 04/27/2007
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