Trickle

Broken notes being played on a Stradavarius, Joni singing of “apples and cheeses”, half of a spindle, you telling me the weather’s fine for trekking, though it’s overcast and the stones are slippery. I almost tell you that I adore you, but I don’t, of course, because you’re looking at her that way, while I’m only a mote in your eye.

I keep my windows open now, hoping to recapture that same dawn. Occasionally, the wind blows and there’s the illusion of reciprocity. That alone satiates me. Here, holding a half-eaten apple and an empty coffee cup, I’ll learn to stop waiting.

Give me the shards of a song, but please don’t be silent.