In the depth of silence
came a clash of spirits.
She never said,
but could always tell.
His alertness was rare;
by the way, he listened
with his stare.
A language of unspoken
gestures profound,
Hints of understanding,
that nervous twitch.
With a quivering lip,
another lie was revealed.
Frosted windows,
smoke and mist.
His eyes were filled with silver tears,
streaming thoughts of peaceful times.
Unveiling the secrets
of a heart’s challenging life.
He drank the essence
of her every word.
Through her
from dawn’s first light,
till evening’s shroud.
The melody of life
echoed through that smile.
There was no need for sound,
for her perception was keen.
She Could fathom his thoughts,
even the silent routines.
The tender cadence of unspoken lines,
the rhythm of his emotions
sorrows and highs.
He wore a tapestry
each gaze unstitched,
Between the lines,
emotions took flight.
That dance of connections
they held so tight.
A meeting of souls
no words could define.
Lost in a language
where every look is a sign.
She could tell
by his alertness and grace,
The language of listening now
etched on his face,
And in that communion,
their spirits aligned,
In the patience of eyes,
and the crime of time.
Steve Halstead.
The Yorkshire Poet & Friends 