sometimes he surprises me
and now i'm not sure if he
is god or matt or both
but i'm left with mouth ajar nonetheless,
by moments of wonder within the monotony
by grand acts of passion like running on a closing train
just to kiss me close.
what i worried most about,
(desparately for days)
being apart,
reuniting
an inevitable missed connection
lack of contact
seemingly strangers, lost,
separate on a large isle.
how is it that i
arrive an hour early,
go to the cafe,
decide to wait outside
so i'll catch a sooner glimpse
of him.
and as soon as i touch hand to glass
i look
and there he is,
touching glass,
waiting to catch a sooner glimpse
of me.
(c) May 2011, Angela Adams. All rights reserved.
Welcome!
- Ang
- I'm a truth-seeker. Depending on what sort of mood I'm in, I might also tell you I'm a writer, consultant, doula, herbalist, educator, or activist. Fact is I'm trying my best to juggle all of these "me(s)" with strength and humor, grace and dignity. This is where you can grab a front row seat, watch me drop balls, and curse.
This one is putting me to bed with a warm content smile on my face.
ReplyDeleteLove you, Ang.
- Jaime