In Quiet Moments


you come near to me,

close enough

 I can almost taste you.

And sometimes,

close enough

to feel your warm breath

on my neck.

 Other times

you are as far away as


and as silent as

the blackness of a tomb.

 Moving in and out

like the tides

on a quiet day;

this is our

tender dance of life.

 You sense my love,

but you never claim it,

as our time

leaks out in my tears



silver drop

until I am devastatingly


 Love is an immeasurable paradox.