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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #2030507
It's a poem
I shall try to explain, a fear as it is;
When in adjacent seats, strangers do meet,
Or more so, do not meet.
The brushing of shoulders
And fingers through hair
With no glance met
And no words shared.
The folly of silent miseries.

What introduction would suffice?
Drama and calamity?
Down on knees to scream
“Forgive me angel, that I am
So base and wretched that
I could not even compare thee
To a pleasing colour
Let alone a grand thing.
Alas, you are more than either”?

No plans resting racing heart
Or sweaty palms, or addled mind.
A mind inside a mind.
Though she may feel small
I am smaller still and
I know my own size.

How will we live?
Through the tumult of empty streets?
Or the vacuum of well trodden paths?
There should be more to say?

What is a word?
And what do we use it for?
Can it be dropped
And picked up off the floor,
Dusted off and shelved,
As it was before?

O curse this birth!
That I am not galvanized
Or made of some stronger metal
Or lion heart or even that Blarney mineral.
© Copyright 2015 ECF Doyle (e.c.f.doyle at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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