It has been there all the time,
In your secret garden of outlined flowers
That need only coloured ink to bloom brightly.

So well hidden in monochrome, among
Like shapes, it was easy to miss; even easier
To assume it was not there to be found.

You find life in the death of skin; beauty
In decay. It is a metaphor for
The transition from this stage to the next;
From beauty in simplicity to a new level
Of wonder more intricate than our tired eyes
Can take in in a single sweep…

And all the while, it shows you where
To go, where you need to be, and what
Has brought you to this place:
A necessary evil that will become
Just another step in your journey.

Words come from unexpected places:
The curve of a girl’s arm,
Knowledge of something trivial I missed,
A railway station departure board,
Long lost feelings that came and went
Unnoticed.

The part of you that speaks to my heart
Is always there: it is gentle, and quiet,
So I must make room to hear it;
Break the noise so it can flow
Through the cracks as ink to my pen.

Although it is with me, carried in
My battered heart, it is still a part of you.
It has been there all the time,
Waiting to be found, waiting for
The ink that will colour it real.

09/21/2015

Posted on 10/12/2015
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince