A Thunderous Silence
Her memories had her waiting
for his oft' tardy appearance,
and in her patient time
perhaps wondering,
"Has he ever noticed the scar
below my kneecap?"
His litany of lateness'
was covered by a bond
of mutually assured affection.
She'd never hold him to a sundial.
And in those times together,
four eyes flickering
with a lingering seep of memory;
each owning a piece of time,
holding it to savor,
watching her, pleased more
by her company
than any assistance,
silence seemed to have been there,
waiting for them.
And in that moment's breathless anticipation
his realization was;
he'd wait an hour to watch her mouth,
the scintillating way words
unspooled from her lips.
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