When the night is lonely
The music sweet…and of a time when we were together
Into the past
Those long telephone conversations
Where even the long silences were so so fulfilling.
When that uncontrollable laughter used to get at us.
The little barbs that we made at each other which amused us equally.
When the possessiveness for each other got funny.
A Tear forms slowly
Ever so slowly
At the corner of my eye
And rolls down my cheek.
And I pray to God
If that means
That what I remember so vividly
You do no remember at all.
I am not plain, you protested.
And the words remained with me.
The songs I played, the music I heard
The voices, the notes, the verses were all you
– echo of your voice
– facets of your being
And I had this overwhelming desire
To put pen to paper
And sketch you
To immortalize you
I drew the locks…the curls that you so harshly tie up at work.
I drew the smile which illuminates your face.
I drew the willowy tall frames.
But that is as far as I got
The words seeming so facetious.
I was disappointed
And wondered why I can’t play with words any longer.
And then the realizations dawned
And I smiled to myself
Because I remember
Am a silent lover.
A lover of silence.