Six Minutes And Forty Two Seconds

wamtac

 Underneath artificial lights

of lamps down the steep drop

of York Road

I called again tonight

to listen in

to this newly discovered soul

Someone says she’s always happy

to hear this voice

but it’s only truly real

when you listen for yourself

and hear the elation

of two minds appreciating the creation

of something neither one could have foreseen

even with the wisest of sages

We speak briefly

of school, writing, and weather

it’s short, but sweet

and ever-increasingly joyous to think of this person

I have yet to even meet

Why? I don’t know

My guess is as good as the distance I can throw

but I am thankful for her heart

to be open towards mine

for hands that craft bittersweet rhymes

and for a mind

that in some ways

is like mine

 

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