An ivory facade of cliff fluoresces
to alabaster as light sweeps its aspect,
rises as if it was a cathedral, erodes
exposed under evermore incursions
of time and weather; bruised even by each eruption
of spray that rushes to reach it - seeks to meet it
despite daily retreat, now walked by congregation
of two; with careful words, with words of care.
But quiet mines the years,
shipworm turns rock to sand,
moments that teetered on escarpments, quarried,
have loosened stones,
have chipped at your immovable gods,
leave a pebble in my shoe,
and my one dimensional view of you
now wriggles in the silence.
It brims with the unspoken, pours to meniscus
and uncontainable so flows so spills
into hidden pools below
of all we have not said.
Image from pixabay