Through windows

we showed signs and made shapes almost every day for a year

Except for those weeks I was lying in bed

Not mine but the hospitals

That time when the signs just weren’t enough

 

It was bright when I returned

and ran straight to the window

He was sat by his, with his head on the glass

A bouquet of flowers resting on the ledge

Silently wilting

 

I let him sleep

But left him a sign

“I’m back, I hope they are mine.”

 

When I woke the next day

He was approaching with speed

“Of course…” said his sign, “who else’s would they be?”

He told me to wait

Because he was taking my turn

Where his words came out slow

But he was making me learn

 

about how while I was gone

He had swam the distance between us

Pulled by the gazes that were moments too long

And in a literal sense

Through the small pond that separated our houses

In the dark of the night

After days of waiting

For my light

 

He was turning the pages fast

And maybe it was the leaves in the wind

The way they danced in the air

But it seemed like his frame was shaking

 

He said he slept by his window

For days on end

All the while thinking how he could tell me

That he had notebooks filled with what could have been said

What could have been done

If we had stepped out sooner

And into the sun

light

there was suddenly one behind his head

beaming straight through him and into me

I thought it was a sign

A grand gesture

This is how we would meet

He suddenly dropped the book

And yelled he was done

I thought this was it, the time had finally come

He used the approaching light to show me one last sign

A shaking little heart

                               Before his room went dark.

 

Advertisements
Through windows

Cherry Blossom

 

A look out the window

A glance

A flicker of the eye

Over that tree

Its branches move in the wind

A silent dance to the sound of whistles

And howls and steady breaths

That float through the wind

And land on its pink petals

Blushing

It’s temporary

But more solid than you’ll ever be

In his life

And in your own

But you can’t help it

Wanting to go out there

To pick one of those pink petals

To hand it to him

Blushing.

Cherry Blossom