She was standing on the bow of the boat
looking down into the spray
its like everything is just a picture
of itself
She said

I looked across the rippling dark waters
Wishing I still smoked

Without lifting her head
she said
I have come to witness this thing called life
though casual observation
and timely interaction
Any thoughts?

I would burn every narrative progression
in favor of sustained mood
There’s nothing new in this point of view
Preponderance is dead
as well it should be
I answered

To fill the silence that grew between us
movie directors
would cue the strings
Played loosely
Ambient music not entirely async
with the night traffic
wandering on the bay
Soft keyboard chords
snowflakes drifting
A gauze of strings
thrumming like deep throated engines
of stately royal barges
floating slowly down river

She grew tired of watching me
turned her face
drained of meaning
to meet the sky
And wept

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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