Trysting Place

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I’m glad that I’m able to post this poem, even if it is a little silly. I mean, I was in love and confused, and I think twenty years old. I had a girlfriend who was pushing and running away because she was as confused as I was and didn’t want the relationship we were in, but she loved me regardless. Chasing her; I wrote this poem, framed it, and gave it to her. I hope she still has it today, but even if she doesn’t it will always be hers.

I don’t write poetry anymore–Evening Breezes was the final expression of that way of thinking for me–but I’m fond of the form. I think that the attention to sound and cadence which it inspires is useful in all kinds of communication.

Trysting Place

It all starts with a whisper

Against a window

A warm breath against the pane

A shadow against the rain

And no one’s here to hear

No one’s on the other side

To feel my inside

And where are you

It all begins with a whisper

In the wind

An echo behind the glass

A soft silhouette in the grass

And no one’s there to hear

No one’s on the other side

To feel me from the inside

And where are you

It all ends with a whisper

In our hearts

A hand against my face

A face against my hand

And you are everywhere from here

We’re on the other side

Feeling us inside

And where we are

We are

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