Stillness echoes whispers
so delicate they hurt,
sighs of humble guessing
that slant softly towards yesterday.
A sober dawn finds with gentle grasping
blotches of ink scattered
on a vast white wind:
an epitaph to Love
that sobs gently
in the early quiet.
I owe more than silence,
let me echo to you
with a voice made pure
by distance and time.
Between these lines a subtle ticking
is measuring out my ways.
When my turnings spell apart,
keep this promise:
Remember me.
Get your own Free Home Page