Saturday, December 29, 2012

Words of the Stranger

Words of the Stranger

An unexpected companion
Sits silently on the park bench
Inches close, but worlds away.
Should a greeting be offered,
Or would it unstop lonely words?
All those words to lovers unsaid
Dribble through our lives like night rain;
Cold drizzle that patters hard
Breaking on the concrete sidewalk
And sings Staccato on the leaves.
What if we spoke those hungry words
To a stranger in the darkness,
Would it lift the iron night fall?
Would that stranger become our light?
Would they listen or hear only
The noise of the city dying?
About to speak fermented words
That are propped with courage and hope
I turn to see the space vacant;
Only a bottle wanting a cork
Before the contents spill sour
Guts to pollute the pure rain wash.
All bottled up and corked inside
The words ferment to vinegar.

A little commentary:
I hate to write another "sad" poem! The world has too many of them already and no one wants to read them anyway. I wrote this from the inspiration given by sharing a seat at the park at the library. It was just when a friend had departed from my life and I wondered if I speaking more often to the friend would have kept them. For me at least the good words I do not say to someone does sour inside me over time.

(c) Adron Dozat

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