You and me

How traumatic it is to talk
How easy to confess
With loneliness.

Silence that exudes
Calm that inhales
Nor judge
Nor prejudges
But…
Nor harangues
Nor reflects
Only
Unchanging… Silence.

Stealth in the home
In every instance
Antithesis of bustle
When it inhabits it.

She wears a colour
A scent she exhales
A laughter that inspires
The desire to kiss her.

She attracts with her figure
Even more with her talk
Turns your days upside down
Joy spreads
In every corner of the house.

Like a newborn baby
Crying out the claim
Claiming your presence
Like the fireplace that tempers
Like the vital chisel that I love.

O.