Words linger unsaid;
no compulsion to fill space.
They are seen in eyes,
the way the head leans to one side;
half-breaths hang luxurious,
simply for the pleasure of it.
Natural rhythms weave calm;
lull without inflection or solution.
We do not rely on talk;
ours is a contented silence,
not at all awkward.
tk/February 2015
