Sunlight stumbled in your dark brown hair,
Then promised always to trespass there.
At my bedroom door you hesitated--
Even the mice held their breath and waited.

If I could be impossibly clever,
I'd trick this silence to sing forever:
Water would not boil in kitchen kettle,
Nor counter rose drop a ravaged petal,
Nor tattered dreamer falter to the ground,
Nor trembled fingers freeze, nor sirens sound.

After we tangoed our tethered dance,
I could dare to steal a final chance
To still the wagging tongue of time
And make the stars swing round in rhyme.






 © 1998, 1999, 2000 George Dickerson