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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A quick poem on the difficulty of language

I sat and watched

The way you talked

Quick and strong and coltish

Amusement and interest

In the eyes of your beholders

Your soft laughter

Eyes flashing black

Dark crystals of light

A radiant smile.

Yet I sat

Isolated and insulated

Wrapped in other languages

Ever unable to penetrate

This wayward inconsequential chatter

A lone figurine of ignorance

A stuffed toy on the edge

Of a cresting sea of intimacies

Knowing with sadness

That in any other language,

In any tongue I could understand,

This soft magic would fail

Nuances floundering in pronunciations

Sibilant subtle inflections

Shattered in other executions

An entire universe I could never enter

Barred by the translucent gates

Of intangible interpretations

Forever shut tight

A deaf mute fated to witness

But never join.

Submitted: October 29, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Paul R. All rights reserved.

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