the floorboards’ chatter


when there are quiet moments
are the interpreters
for the heart’s voice we clothe from the world
save for a few

i think of you
or rather, think of being with you
barefoot and swaying in each other’s arms
wearing t-shirts, the golden apple glow of autumn
and no regrets

the floorboards
creaking slightly beneath us, sighing
as another story writes itself in gentle steps
from rug to rug and from easy smile to easy smile
they hold fast and give

much like i imagine
we would
and so i hear my own floorboards
echo this hidden talk from my heart
as i grab coffee and write what i have yet to say

to you

wisps and wondering

rustic coffee_500

one wonders sometimes
on days swept with rain
what the price is on over-burdened hearts
that bear the same amount of bruising
as fruit under the careless fingers of shoppers
and perhaps that answer
can only be found
in the wisps of steam off of one’s mug
as it meets the grey out past the window