"The most eloquent silence; that of two mouths meeting in a kiss." -- Unknown
Monday, May 19, 2008
His voice is as clear as a high note on a violin. Each word hangs on an iron rod of wit. I watch them fall, landing tragically upon a cold ground- one that could care less what wisdom shatters on it's gravel. How I long to catch his words! If only he could pass them to my lips with no space to chance their death. And my my coordination be gracious so no other woman catches our secrets. But his speech is not quite yet trasferred to me, so for I now I salvage what sweet praises are strewn around my feet, hold each to my face, and continue to dream.