As always …
Thank you for the visit,
The uncomfortable but familiar awkwardness you keep on wearing like an armour,
That has long since become too small.
This is how poems are written,
From things we cannot say out loud,
For fear of disturbing precarious balance of sleep-walkers.
All is well with us.
Next to each other we are both sitting as close as we dare to what each fear most;
You – Passion,
Me – Love.
While gods in heavens roar with laughter,
Tumbling from one fluffy cloud to another,
Like imaginary kids in fairy tales.
In the soft light of dusk, you found a word I did not know I was seeking,
For my poem,
Like a pebble lost on the beach,
You picked it up and handed it to me.
It fitted, perfectly.
I never saw anyone on that beach before.