What is it that you want to hear?
A solemn little song
of handkerchiefs dotted
with weakness and deceit?
Hands now blanketed
in your oceanic sheets.
Deeply and longingly
will it sound.
A hum.
A moan.
Oh, the restless syllables
rippling in crying tongues.
It is a gurgled speech
melodious
in its own end.
Melodious in its own goodbye.
I will wipe my eyes now.
And then you will listen.
- vera
(http://veraleigh.blogspot.com)