Speechless 
               
                Farmer market, spring, subdued town, 
                  I pass a shivering mime, her still grip 
                  tight on a phone. I read its screen — 
                  white letters, five pale lines, 
                  hushed words — almost a poem. 
                    Lives long for voice, touch 
                    home. Reach out, risk, love 
                    be bright flames — dance 
                    to the end together, not alone. 
                  I leave, shop farm-stands, buy, return. 
                  She smiles, drinks the quiet coffee, 
                  devours my silent slice of pie.  |