Thousands of Words

Let the clouds
be the words
of another language
that neither of us know,
so that somewhere,
distant from here
(where we must be),
will be all the thousands of words
that we shall never speak.

In that place, in that other language,
let there be other words
for greeting after long absence,
for the end to loneliness,
for the cool skin of your neck,
for how you pause before you laugh,
for my sense of you
walking by my side,
for traveling toward someone.

Let these words fall
into the open throat of the sky,
to be spoken elsewhere,
in this other language,
for we may not say them here.

– Copyright Kay Winter

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