This Is This

Once the absent-hearted waited
for the sound of footsteps and the
creaking of a gate
to fill the nooks of affection.

In their place now
the missing rings of phones
and empty subject fields
of unsent emails.

But still we listen,
against our better judgement,
for the words and sounds
of a message that never gets sent
and the footsteps that never come.

Also on This Is This
When I woke up short of breath in the middle of the night, I picked up my watch, shook it, held it to my lips and breathed in. Yes. I was trying to inhale time.
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This entry was posted on Monday, December 17th, 2007 at 1:50 pm. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed, or you can skip to the end and leave a comment yourself.