|
Asymptotes
by Richard VinceYellow fabric in silver light
Glows like a lighthouse in
Oceans of dark wood.
Purposeful glasses; practical hair;
Pensive eyes; porous mind.
Her time is fruitful:
Fingers busy forging
Words from thoughts.
We are asymptotes:
So close, yet never meeting,
Even though we share
A graph, a function.
Her frustration is visible,
Her heart hidden,
As mine is from her.
She is illuminated, but
I remain the wrong side
Of the spotlight.
I am the audience;
I can only watch.
11/15/2017 Author's Note: Asymptote: a line or curve that a given curve closely approaches but never reaches.
Posted on 12/03/2017
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 12/04/17 at 01:25 AM Is this not the relationship between any two people?? There always seems to be some distance between us and 'the other' regardless of how 'close' we believe we are. That is almost what 'other' means. Really like the write!! |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/04/17 at 04:26 PM Asymptotes- what a fascinating concept and used so creatively here. Love that first stanza. Narrator could almost be the ocean in addition to being the audience. |
| Posted by Brian Francis on 12/04/17 at 06:54 PM Your "Asymptotes" is playfully wonderful. It is a intelligent write which speaks well to devotion. Well done --bf |
| 
