Like Many Times Before
Together we rode in heavy silence like a steady drum, and we knew
this wouldn't be the last time
that I would stare out pretending at passing yellow stripes
both of us measuring (or had you even tried?)
at a handful of words. You wanted
Something I never seemed to have. Or that I left unsaid.
(You've said many times before)
But I was measuring instead. I tried the only hand I knew
mimicking the calm you flaunted.
I didn't know anymore.
So I stared ahead at nothing while you drove
resolutely down our street, turning
silently into the driveway that had been
our home for nine long years.
For a few seconds, I held back tears.
(I'd always known you hated tears)
But then turned to you slowly as you cut off the engine,
and smiled, for just a moment.
You smiled back softly.
And like many times before,
we knew that the silence would return to laughter,
or touching, or even just acknowledgement.
With a silent transformation that bore the only witness
to all the reasons we loved at all,
and only we knew.
Copyright © Erin Beckett | Year Posted 2011
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