I’ve been dipping my words in hot coffee & purple ink,
Since I know you like to warm your heart into them.
I’ve been dragging my bones over the skin of these pages,
Because I wanted to write you poems like I was really there.
I wanted to touch the spines of books on your shelves,
And ask you if you could feel the shiver.
I was sifting what’s left of this stardust of memories,
and I can promise you my greatest work is yet to come.
It’s when the silver bones of my mind,
will be polished down to the silence of snow on paper.
When writers love, the planet does spin a bit slower.
It lends us time to turn all our quietness into words.