Shhh !

I share the silence with the window,
loneliness filling the wine glass
that is stirred with memories of you.

The wind whispers and the leaves stir,
a soft rustling of rushing thoughts;
and I wonder ... who shares your silence?

Needles fall from the pine,
pricking the earth's dark flesh,
her complexion paled by winter's breath.

Cascading outside my window,
trails of tears fall down the long face of night.
An unbearable intensity floods my being.

I lift my hand, place it against the window
and imagine you on the other side
with your hand lifted in response to mine.

You put a finger to my lips, their warmth hidden,
but the slow fog of my breath clouds the glass;
and in its opacity, I write your name.

You are so near; and yet, so far.
Before me like the moon just out of reach,
you haunt me with the ghost of your touch.

I lean into the silence, stretch with the stillness,
and blow out an old flame reflected in my window.
You disappear with the smoke and sulfur.

I stand still and contemplative ... longing,
thinking of you and how it feels
to be sharing in the silence ... alone