no words left for me


Remember how I waited

for all the words you didn’t say,

like the gasp the sun makes

just before she dives into the sea,

and yellows and oranges turn deep,

into blue foghorn songs in the dusk.

Now I walk dark streets in silence,

to see if your words hang there,

waiting, a song to be collected,

but block after block is empty,

quiet, no words left for me. 


11 thoughts on “no words left for me

  1. As editor I am challenged to sometimes say things I really hate to, being left to oftentimes only dream about saying things I so rarely can say…
    Yet today, time seems to finally have come to say that I have read one of the most beautiful “just poetry” poems I have ever read. Yes, I have read outstanding and extraordinary poetry, each and every of them having something radiating through…
    But your poem, with it’s classical simplicity of deeply felt metaphors, didn’t “drop my jaw”, being for some rather unexplainable “reason”, altogether… embraceable…
    I wish I could take something out and talk about, but I would do injustice to the whole…
    Oh, and please, allow me to explain a bit: it is just my “normal” way of objectively commenting as you see, when I have my own deeply felt, nevertheless of course, personally subjective reasons; even so, some have considered, and some still do, that I am exaggerating… I am not, this is just my own, old fashioned, passionate way of expressing myself:-)
    Thank you.

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