I read your poem today.
Your script graced the page
weightless
as a wisp of hair
or a tendril of truth.
But your words
carved faultlines, a canyon,
where your pencil paused.
And those wispy lines of truth,
they formed a riverbed,
dry and void,
that snaked across the valley.
And I’m left standing in this dip
between mountains,
thirsty
for adequate words.
If only my apology
could escape my lips, but softly,
and form a river
through your loneliness
back to where I stand,
right here before you,
waiting, wanting
to make amends.
SWPoet
3-15-2010
To JW, my reluctant poet in hiding,
who had to say what he felt in form of a poem,
for me to hear his words.
May he hear the apology in mine
for those little hurts that couples cause
when they love each other
and forget they must also show it.
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