i've searched for my words in poems and songs -
vulturing the offerings of bards and minstrels past.
they fall into my hands and trickle between my fingers
leaving a residue of hope and love in equal parts
as they fall - missing my lips as i try to cram them in
but nothing i can do to turn them into my own words,
nothing i can use to say how i feel -
without coloured cheeks, uneven breaths and trembling hands
i may find them within your arms or as your hands play over mine
i may find them in the early morning light or the setting sun
i may find them in the soft words you share, the care you take.
i will find them somewhere and i will whisper them again and again
but always with coloured cheeks and uneven breaths
as i hold your trembling hands close
© LatteJunkie, 2 May, 2013
Linking up at #prose4T