A Pause In Slow Motion

You stand in the middle of my poem

followed by streetlights and city lights

that play notes of improvisational jazz in the absence of your smile.

Your words hover over the lines of a restaurant menu like a sprit board wandering over an alphabet

seeking answers to why you never chose to follow me,

to find me in the moment when tears shook my soul when you left;

your words, your eyes  haunting the wind.

The comfort of you standing in an icelandic storm

was always there

when my footsteps would fall into the shadows of the snow;

uncertainty a word in a hesitation of emotion.

You stand in the middle of my midnight

when sleep escapes me

and the music strains from echoes of my compositions

over and over again like individual sighs against a midnight moon.

Silence falls like ice pellets against the window pane,

your world waiting to knit the next chapter into mine

as I boarded the plane bound for deserts and limitless skies.;

a pause in slow motion.

If music can knit the fabric of love,

and

tears can fathom the depths of loss

as 

dreams light the streetlights of words spoken one by one

to 

the place where you still fill the rooms within my heart,

my life on pause

as I go through the motions of conversations

upon everyday lights in the sky;

the kettle warming the cold of an afternoon thought;

then an echo is

a pause in slow motion.