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.
