You Are Special
First we construct words:
simple, complex, love-words.
A game becomes real
with every word,
that starts to build a new poem:
a fraction of life—
in another life—
here and there, far or close together.
I wanted the night to come early—
depending on words hungry for invention.
I can't hear you,
but words can say,
a thousand times,
that this voice
was a part of you.
I learn the blind silence,
in steps of vowels,
every morning—
happy to be in another life,
somehow, somewhere…
You know you are forever special
in my mind and soul.
I love you.
The cold spring comes
early this year,
with hope for flowers,
windy songs of birds,
and poetry.
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