Monday, 14 November 2011
I don’t love you, nor you me,
Yet when within each other’s reach,
Whispers of eternity,
Slow the clocks and hush the din,
Make our words like senseless leaves,
Falling awe-struck from a tree.
No matter that the meanings flee,
News-stained words, the passing themes,
It is our silences I seek,
Sweeter than the sweetest lips.
I don’t love you, for love is,
Misshapen word, disrobed by fears,
Its power waning, its light dimmed,
With each untruth, so kindly meant.
And if it happens that it must be,
For words to lose to their fragrances,
Watch me lose, I’ll lose gladly,
To win our silences between.