In the innermost chamber of the heart,
is a room where the intellect can be quiet and rest.
Here, these two old friends are on equal footing.
Neither struggles for the upper hand.
They have often smiled at each other across
the heavy wooden table placed between them.
Leaning in, they talk about your day.
"Did you feel that moment when we stood
shoulder to shoulder, and she felt it?"
Like some windless river in an ancient city,
where both shores are made of good grey granite,
they feel everything you feel, and gently stand their ground.
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
In the innermost chamber of the heart,
is a room where the intellect can be quiet and rest.
Here, these two old friends are on equal footing.
Neither struggles for the upper hand.
They have often smiled at each other across
the heavy wooden table placed between them.
Leaning in, they talk about your day.
"Did you feel that moment when we stood
shoulder to shoulder, and she felt it?"
Like some windless river in an ancient city,
where both shores are made of good grey granite,
they feel everything you feel, and gently stand their ground.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
