June 7, 2012 § Leave a comment

as we lay ourselves down in
years molded by happenstance
on the island we made
of ourselves

lean into my chest
and tell me
again about the voice
you hear
so together we
may know it by its words

is it not the same as
you heard as a child?
the same as you told me about
as we inhaled the sun
that first morning
in Barcelona
and again over tea
back on our balcony

as the baby
slept and the rain washed
sidewalk below held the
sheen of satin for a short time

I’ve never been chosen for its words
the look that veils your mood
is all that is needed
to know it has come again

it whispers and
you drift
that much
further from our shore


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading drift at Fred Whitehead's Blog.


%d bloggers like this: