The Secret

My mind is restless;

my feet are tapping,

waiting for twelve fifteen.

I rush outside,

to sit beside you,

underneath the maple tree,

behind that broken fence,

standing on your humble grounds.

I look at you – 

in silence;

in stillness;

it is ordinary. 

Here, where our eyes meet,

to sing the same song,

for one another.

At your shores is where my soul speaks;

you splash at my feet;

I throw myself into your waves,

holding on and on,

falling more and more,

drowning into your oceans –

into a storm!

Into madness!

It is extraordinary!

We are closer than we have ever been,  

yet, I cannot see your depths –   

tell me what you hide –  

is it what we hide?

Our kiss was sealed and buried in that ground,

with no witnesses, 

but my desperate lips; 

with no evidence,

but your inked kisses on my skin.

I know what we hide; 

we keep secret,  

we keep quiet,

in your notes,  

in my poems.

That is all that I need;

to sit beside you,

each day at a quarter past noon; 

underneath the maple tree,

behind that broken fence,

standing on your humble grounds.

I look at you – 

you are ordinary;

you are extraordinary;

you are enough.

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