old poem and photo

I wrote this poem a few years ago and just found it while looking through some old disks... i thought I would post it.... I also took this picture about the same time.

resembling poetic
moments in life.
you. me. words spoken that will not be forgotten until my hands start shaking
and blonde is white. lost with age.

but at this moment significance seems distant.
minimal.
you. no more than five feet away on the plaid couch colored like
a 1940's smoking jacket. You're curled up and strewn about your self. legs.
arms. and a book in the center.

you are beautiful.
I pretend to read my own book. observing. sitting in this moment that does not
guarantee reoccurrence. I hear the rhythmic hum of the drier. commonplace.
comforting.

I want to speak
but cannot risk breaking this synchronic solitude. Besides you're tired. And
I should understand. I am selfish.

I want you to speak.
to me. time seems irrelevant.
needs are subjective. easily misunderstood or taken too lightly.

Maybe I am just to serious. Maybe you just don't know. don't
realize
Nothing more.
Done, this instant and left at that. Silence. waiting for an
opportune time to replace this voiceless hour.

8.7.01