Speechless
Farmer market, spring, subdued town,
I pass a shivering mime, her still grip
tight on a phone. I read its screen —
white letters, five pale lines,
hushed words — almost a poem.
Lives long for voice, touch
home. Reach out, risk, love
be bright flames — dance
to the end together, not alone.
I leave, shop farm-stands, buy, return.
She smiles, drinks the quiet coffee,
devours my silent slice of pie. |