Silence
Our conversation today:
a sun baked Roman aqueduct
dried up, no water.
In the bathroom,
brown sacking hangs
ragged on leaking pipes.
Our words are lifeless kites,
earthbound,
too heavy to rise.
Each sentence fills
with wasted movements
of lips, tongue, jaws and teeth
Enormous
barbed wire barriers
have grown between us.
Words and thoughts
hang like washing
pegged out on a windless day.
Dead soldiers
gone over the top,
their uniforms flapping
on unbroken wire.
rogermoorepoet 
Roger, I think you are summoning hot, dry weather in your imagination to combat the wicked cold and overload of snow. I can feel it! (Even if it was meant to be metaphorical!)
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This is a golden oldie. I had just come back from Segovia with its Roman Aqueduct (built by Trajan, I think). Mind you, the fact that I was re-reading it in our Northern cold (vs their Southern sunshine) is in itself revealing.
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Somtimes in silence is d symbol of coming storm,dear roger!!beautifully written.
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Thank you, Aruna. The silence, in this case, did precede the storm.
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Yeah.dear roger.welcome you
.
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Thanks, Tanya. I rewrote it three times this morning. I also changed it twice after posting it. There’s something about seeing it here in public that allows me to rethink and correct mistakes and flaws. I seem to be able to see it more objectively, somehow. Difficult to explain.
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That was profound, Roger. I especially loved:
Words and thoughts
hang like washing
pegged out on a windless day.
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