Wind, tunnels tornadoes

electric storms caress the desert,

silence is the best.

 

Whispers disappear

in the voice of every day,

I can’t hear your words,

 

I can’t hear them

above the noise

of normality.

 

Sunday bells chime,

you call my name across

sky scrapers, empty beaches,

 

oceans that go on for ever.

 

 

Tree turns to gold leaf

another summer rises and falls

I am somewhere beyond light

 

and surf.

 

Waiting for the cold,

from a cold seeping through

centuries of bone.

 

Shuffled from sanctuary

to sanctuary, defiled by

city street lights, not listening,

 

and  I just don’t listen.

 

Morning windows

sticky with night sweat I turn to you

and find empty space.

 

Internet connections

light waves, satellites

none of these bring you nearer.

 

Hidden behind faces

empty railway stations

sometimes the breeze

 

brings your smell………..