I am not sure when
we stopped speaking,
speaking beyond necessary.
Words sit on our tongues
like sparrows, common,
generic, sterile, polite.
When startled into the
insistence we make commentary,
we flutter our vocal chords
long enough to let conversation
appease, and then return
to roost in our silence.
Forcing someone to sing
will not make the music sweet….
Love is not a measure
of how many words we can
bead across the gap.
It is knowing there is enough
passion in our hearts to carry
us through our silent winter.
Comments
I am glad too that their passion would carry them through. Ours (first marriage) didn't make it, the passion died.
..
http://arlyndalea.blogspot.com/2014/11/november-nudges-201417.html
passion in our hearts to carry
us through our silent winter."
and
"Forcing someone to sing
will not make the music sweet…."
Loved it! The title reminds me of the Marquez' novel 'Love in the Time of Cholera' (although I'm yet to read the book). Beautifully penned, Susie.