she's calling out to him, but he'll never hear her rasp
a desperate whisper, her voice is met with gravel and sand
rolling and thrashing into the swell of pressure and power
her words lost in the dispersion of grains and foam
he sits and waits for the one who sings
but finds no hope in a silent horizon
only sounds keeping the air from solidifying
are birds and waves and the buzzing of an airplane
if he knew to listen to the tide as it constantly greeted the shore
he may have found a word or two meeting his ears
he may have heard her pain and utterance in the seeming darkness
he may have recognized his own name and something else faint
perhaps if he had let himself listen to the sea
we would have been met with love from his lover's desperate scream
No comments:
Post a Comment