​She rarely spoke – 

So seldom, 

That one who was inclined – 

To think,  would think, 

That she measured her syllables, 

With careful ardour. 

In time, I found, 

It was her silences, 

That said the most. 

On occasion, I counted – 

The pauses and breaths, 

Transfixed by moments of

Certain serenity. 

Without warning, 

She would break breath, 

And promise she would love me, 

In my darkest hours. 

Kevin Brown © 28.07.2016

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