My Voice

Trivial

Trivial



I meant to write a poem tonight
about the air
and the feel of your breath
against my neck.

I wanted to mention
how your words weave
pathways to places
I've not been for awhile
and how much I like the view
through your eyes.

I wanted to engage myself
in contemplation.
Contrast and compare you
to others more
or less significant.

I meant to treat myself to a soliloquy
dedicated to a man of words
who momentarily
holds my imagination,
and like a sunset,
captures my attention.

But tonight
it is hardly appropriate
and my little revelations
hold no significance

while terror darts about
in a soldier's eyes
and somewhere tonight
her parents are dying inside.




Mary


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Trivial

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