My Poem ‘All in the signs’

There is no sound,
there is nothing to be heard;
there is a couple sitting at the next table from me
in the cafe I am in
talking completely and fully without words,
and the beauty of their silent conversation,
even though I do not mean to pry in any way,
has me not only lost for words
but also lost in thought,
and I can feel my heart start to pound.

I can’t hear a word that they are saying to each other,
but I know that that is because their voice
is not meant to be heard by me-
they could be saying anything to each other-
but what I do know, just from observing the looks
that they are giving each other,
is that this couple is in love;
I recognize and I have seen this unmistakable,
silent, and mutual, connection of spirit
in myself and in others a thousand times,
and it never fails to read, at least to me,
like the most beautiful, natural, and special, poetry.

The eye-contact, lip-movements, and hand-gestures and signs,
they are making is entrancing,
the way they are so compelled and in-awe of each other
and do not need or want the attenton of anyone else
in the entire world is mesmerising-
I am not afraid of confessing.

I wanted to be a part of their conversation,
but I also, secretly, did find it cool that I and everyone
was an outsider because we couldn’t understand their code
and are not meant to.
I must admit I did smile at the thought of them
having so much privacy, and the gift of one to one communication
without the potential of being evesdropped on.

They looked like they only had time
and only had eyes for each other,
and that truly touched my heart and made me happy-
the joy they were feeling about talking to each other,
sitting facing each other, of one mind and intent,
was noticeable, palpable, and wonderful to see.
Communication on every level of society and by every means
all around the world in a million different ways
has always fascinated me,
and the gift of being able to reach out to someone,
especially someone that you love, in some way, in any way,
no matter who you are or how it is done
never ceases to fascinate me.

The couple that I was watching had their own language,
their own code of communication that even I could see,
surpassed the language they had been taught
to share what they want to say;
and it occurred to me after I left the cafe
that they have a code, everyone has a code,
and even I have mine-
my language, my code, is that of patterns and poetry;
and I also realised that if I or anyone wants to be a part
of any conversation, I and they have to learn and read
what is being said all around us every second,
sometimes silently without a sound,
because the answer to what is being said is
all in the signs.

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My Poem ‘Another’

Two starlings dancing in the sunlight,
foraging all around in trees, hedge-rows,
and on the ground, for the sustenance of life,
and also for the first of many pieces
to begin building their new nests-
to passers-by they see them and go about their morning unnoticed;
however, I cannot take my eyes away,
I am hypnotized by this pairing and by what they are doing-
and as the starlings both take-flight one after the other,
as the sun shines directly on my face,
my insight too flies away.

A couple sit on the lip of a fountain-
their hands touching each-others,
their fingers harmonized and entwined with one-another’s-
embracing, showing, and sharing their love with the world;
as they kiss in the way that only they know how to kiss,
as one of the couple slowly puts their hands to the others face,
the other closes their eyes, while dancing their feet in the fountain’s water-
their love for their unity is hard to miss-
they are the most perfect picture I have ever seen,
locked in an intimate and infinite moment of ecstasy,
but they do not look out of place.

Strangers on a train, who see and talk and share
their view of life and the world with each-other everyday,
in the same carriage, on the same route-
who are more honest with themselves, and with their train acquaintance,
than they are with their family, their partner-
who looks forward to conversing every morning and every night
with someone who shares the same love for the same fruit-
paired-together, not just so that they may pass the time
while travelling from paint ‘a’ to point ‘b’;
brought-together, to enrich both of their lives
for as long as their time together shall be.