The Word

Let us not say

the word

for once it is spoken

it cannot be

unheard

 

instead

 

feel it

on my skin

as morse code under feathered touch

dots, stray dashes and such

 

hear it

in dawn sighs

and half dream whispers

that mesmerize

 

taste it

in a collapsed soufflé

that with excruciating attention

brought laughter to our day

 

smell it

as the morning scent of jasmine flower

missed by sleeping neighbours

we rejoice our private, shared hour

 

and see it

when our eyes meet and gently hold

in blink free wonder

that word

is told

27 thoughts on “The Word”

  1. “Blink free wonder”, I love that.. such lovely imagery here. I love your description of the wandering armadillo too! x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is beautiful! Words are not self-referential, they always speak of other realities. There’s a beauty in the simplicity of this, and I think you really capture it in this poem. Thank you for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

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