The glance
The sentences are tired,
abused.
they are broken by the noises
around,
they hit the walls and slip down
You stare at me,
and silence turns into flowing
of bright explosion
The words are now comprehensible
and they touch me
like petals taken from a red new rose,
they run over me
like the flow of a mountain stream,
and the bickering of fire when in silence are heard.
