Sonnet 2
February 3, 2011


I swam out on a summer night
to test the water and my strength.
And I was lost, without a light,
so I swam the shore’s entire length,
and I was tired at the end,
but I knew you were waiting there.
I swam to you, my dearest friend,
so you could kiss my moonlit hair.
And though you left me long ago
for other women, men, and lands,
I sometimes smile, just to know
we left our clothes on midnight sands.
I should have known it wouldn’t last,
but still, I’m dreaming of the past.


February 2, 2011


The muted wonder in your eyes tells me
that silence is a happy way to live
when all the world, in sunlight, is set free
and all the noises charge the stage to give
the concert of their lives.  The quiet smile
upon your lips tells me to listen well
because the rests are lost in sound, and while
the notes are good, the rests have things to tell.
I know that you will never stop to talk
and tell me of the silences you’ve heard
but I have watched the way you move and walk
and see that you don’t miss the spoken word.
For syllables are simply sounds, at best,
but you, in silence, shine above the rest.