PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Me and you stand,

In a field of grass.

With our shoes off

And moments can no longer pass.

I don't see you,

But I do,

And I know we exist through a pane of glass.

I press my hand against it

Half expecting something to touch back.

No shadow, no form, no mass

Just me and you,

In that shimmering, wind swept,

Field of grass.

The way my skin is threaded,

And the fine lines that indicate time passing,

The way that thoughts come to me,

Like stones dropped in pools of memory.

Remind me of the way the musculature of your limbs

Are settled like circuitry.

Reminds me that something exists more human than humanity.

And how patterns are our binding commonality.

Through a web of meaning, of verse, of prose, of subtle symphony.

And how lucky we are that God can meet poetry.

And how lucky we are that flight doesn't have to be literal to be true.

And God, how lucky we are that I

am me, and you are you.