With every sound
of each word uttered
there is pause – a silence,
as if waiting for the touch
of a lover – distant still,
but out there.
Until such time,
words float as poetry
lightly wrought
on cool staves
only now just stirring;
no tone is forced, just harsh
and breathy –
they wait and would wait
forever,
as every song, like love,
is incomplete
until it hears its heart echo.