London Poem: Day 185

18 February

The way words fall out,
Their heavy, swinging gait,
Never finds their feet;
Watch the way my shoulders
Hang, swaying with a sudden
Rhythm heard by most.
My body reveals the flaws
My ability to set
Aside words just for you –
I’m blind to the fact that
You cannot hear.
I sing to the world, and
The world waits, because
For there are places and
There are corners of the earth
Lovely, it is true,
But you are the world to me.
So, patiently you wait and wait,
Believing me gone, while I
Carrying mindlessly on.

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