Monday, 23 September 2013

The little I know

Whatever I know, whatever I’ve known 
of contentment and being alone 
is summed up in a few words, and you.
One upturned palm resting upon
the other with nothing to do


and nothing special to be done.
Solitude as deep as the ocean
and this self a ruffled seashell;
the skim of a jet-ski on the horizon
or maybe a ship, a larger vessel


made small due to distance and blurred.
Solitude. Rich, resonant as a word
proud and unrhymed at the verse’s end,
and my self loosely tethered
in you, immortal for this second.



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