Day Three.

3 Apr

the passage of time

we’ve run out of conversation,

we’ve nothing left to say.

we cannot abide by talk of the children,

who now wrangle children of their own,

expecting us to play with and to give back,

to babysit and to listen.

and what of those who bore us?

how do we talk of what stabs us in our hearts,

of nursing homes and pain pills,

of loss of vitality and absence of memory?

we’ve run out of conversation,

we’ve nothing left to say.

we let them talk around us,

about anniversaries and births, about time and trust,

about how our lengthy togetherness inspires,

about how we lead by example.

they merely hear their own voices reverberating back to them.

not ours. we haven’t said a word.

and what would you say, if you could?

and what would i say, if i could?

crickets chirp.

the night wears on.

silence.

we’ve run out of

we’ve nothing

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