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The Unspeakable MAG
February 22, 2016
soft,
like drops of rain
tapping
on the window of my car
like a mouse a
cat a
xylophone
the way your eyes flicker
in the firelight
a tap dance, a quiet one
like falling pebbles
the flick of a hand
the ripples in the river
and his voice is an echo
his hands are pillars, trees
rooting into my skin
the hummingbird,
a hint of possibility
hovering into memory
then out of existence.
© Ashley D., Philadelphia, PA
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