Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Time Zones Heal All Wounds

I don’t hear you whispering
In the hushed tropical breeze created by a butterfly’s wing
That you have never seen

I don’t see your eyes in the fluttering blue of the sea
That you have never sailed

I don’t smell you in the burnt coffee mornings
That you never sipped
Or the sawdust remains of a workday afternoon
That you have never measured

I don’t taste your sweet tongue
in a honey’d dawn or dusky mango flesh

I don’t feel your fiery heat
Rising from the baked clay earth beneath my feet
On these paths you have never taken

In  those some times zones
I think


I’ve forgotten him.