this long hour that she's
refusing to speak to me
we sit in the bedroom
opposite sides
the tv goes unheard in the corner
softly whispering nonsense to itself
like a madman
she is sitting with her perfumes and paints
looking distantly into the mirror
i study her face from across the room
grasping for words i dare not speak
trying for a thought that could resolve
remembering that sometimes its better to let anger alone
but from here she doesn't look angry
she plays with her hair
applies lip gloss
fiddles with things
waiting
i let loose with a softly spoken 'sorry'
she tells me she loves me
what did it all mean
why had there been such angry words
i look for the meanings but left puzzled
sometimes its better to let anger walk its own path
out of its dark woods
her sunshine returns in the coming hours
and we are once again
hand in hand
a glance away from a smile
a kiss away from each other
we make love in the afternoon sunlight
and drift into sleep entangled in each-others arms
lover sweet lover