“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


a bit of a poem and a bit of conversation

she say and then i say back
and then she again and then a pause
and then she again
and she again
and i answer and question
and then we wait
and begin again at the same time
this conversation that never sleeps.
the opening sentence years old, celebrating birthdays
minutes long
hours long
into the night the dark the hardness of life
into the day the rain the sun the heat the blooming flowers.

the seasons swirl around us.

she stay silent and so do i
and i stay more and hide inside
and hide inside some more;
this conversation that ain't about words
but about me in the doorway in bare feet and pink pajamas
and her in heels
and the minutes we stop smile sigh smirk.

you can see it, can't you?
a true conversation meandering through nights and days
and phone calls and moonlight and walking toward jupiter
and texts full of tears and hugs full of same
it ain't never gonna stop
never ever.
i promise cross my heart and all that stuff.


today's mixture of napowrimo and me.

1 comment:

come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .