Weary eyed souls

Stare at their partners

Years, memories–

Etched into lines

On face and palms.

Thoughts flow abundant–

Talk doesn’t follow.

Instead a conversation

Of loud nothing filled

With wisps of meaning–

Speaking without form

Hearing with no ears.

Ragged hands–glasses–

Ice, scotch swirled.

Hours pass sunk into

Seconds turned–folded.

Minutes–ticking softly.

The people leave the bar

Toward nights of pleasure,

Joy and fun.

Yet these two souls remain–

Speaking with no words

Perhaps a spoken word

In time to come.

I wonder–do they see–

I wonder–do they know–

That there betwixt

The wood and window–

Two faces, two glasses,

Two souls–time itself



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