let’s linger
bask in the growing din
in our own world
as the crowds gather
never alone
brushing by the hordes
but mindless to all else
the city fog
helps the illusion
like mist on the moors
of some novel
we ‘ll tread, not just walk
like they did long ago
exploring
eyes and ears on our story
tuning out the rest
writing interrupted
life interrupts the pen
glorious, maddening
how to take the sensations
put them into words
when there were no words
for the best parts
merely grunts and groans
then eyes wide
and quiet
back to the pen
are there rhymes
for such times
go in
she showed up
stood outside the door
the alley was dark, damp
a streetlight flickered around the corner
pushing long shadows up the wall beside her
she had but to turn the rusty knob
and she’d be inside
taking in the sights and sounds
people, art, life
what was stopping her
she was stuck
feet rooted to the floor
hands hanging limply at her sides
just turn the knob
go in
still night
in the still, quiet of night
they finally can breathe deep
darkness settles over them like a blanket
no moon to shine a light on troubles
he takes the questions from the edge of her lips away
she forgets to wonder or worry
they take comfort together
their world a small, dark space
they hold all they need between their locked arms
there may be battles brewing all around
but somehow they remain sheltered
chaos erupts in the day
over and over again
but their pure, impossible need
wipes all else from view
it’s so very quiet
so very still
if this night could last
but then they thought no more
and surrendered
legendary
he kept a furious pace
moving like a whirlwind
he stole all the breath in the room
when he was near
nobody could challenge him
for he had braved fires and waters
and had emerged bigger
bolder
with a keen eye for weakness
a mouth for debate
he faced the endless horizon
with arms akimbo
feet ready to bolt
yet the peculiar appeal
was his ability
to spot a soft heart
and handle it gently
holding the world at arms length
when it all became too much
The Word Rummager 