Words Not Written.

Whenever I have written, it’s never alone, for you are always with me.

But it’s not in any word, any punctuation, but shorn of grammar.

For you are the unwritten, the thoughts not given breath.

The silence I call home, a whisper in my ear, the beat of my heart.

A sunrise, the sundown; a starry, starry night.

Virgin snow on the landscape, the rain against my window.

Wherever I have written, it’s never alone, for you are beside and within me.