18 August, 2008 at 13:54 (Uncategorized)

I went out into the dark.
It was warm inside as they all went mad,
but you were outside, alone
and the rain was coming on.
So I went out into the dark,
to sit, with my eyes on you.
He took his time, but he came.
I sat, and waited, for the rain
as you howled into the dark,
and they lost it in the warmth within.
Started to wonder if I should
bring you back into the warmth,
but I knew that I was, invisible,
and that you’d rather stay,
ride it all out in the dark and the rain and the wind;
until it had gone as far as it could,
and all that was left was yourself in the dark.
I sat still, didn’t move,
and he came.
Out into the dark he moved,
was not your name he called but another,
and he moved slow and careful now,
did not run past.
I was still and I watched,
as he called,
not he himself, he called you as a lover
calls to his beloved.
Not as he called you,
in another earshot,
in another world,
and you to he responded,
and you to he uncurled.
And the rain came on,
as I sat, still as I could in the dark,
and I waited;
as the tongues that were words that were other,
wrapped themselves around the present,
and the silence reshaped itself to the words that were spoken.
And I waited and was still and I watched,
as he lifted you,
deftly in the dark in his arms,
and carried you,
the lost wanderer besides you both, immediately discounted,
into the warmth within.
I watched, as silent as I could be in the dark.


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