High tide

The goodbye and speaking of it

words
that
stumble
over
lips

and are slipping away
with the high tide in the swallowing
down the curves of my throat

sentences without a verb

me
you
dear,

but do know
maybe for the last time
even if it was for the first
intensively sensitive

like guitar music or homesickness
it sings in me like the strings
of friendship
far over the border
it tastes like a song

without understanding the feeling
of silence en still so much
to say that day

and now
remembering it again.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere
10/10/2014