Alone At Last Poem by Amy Carr

Within the safety of his silence
he glides by with hardly a sound.
My eyes follow his every move,
carefully watching the
flex of muscle and skin under
thin cloth and wisps of smoke.

A quick, easy glance
(and a little smirk)
greet me as he returns,
slyly saying something
I can’t quite understand,
and just as I open my mouth to speak

his voice suddenly springs to life—
with the whole of the language
(which so often eludes him)
at his tongue-tip, ready
to dance and perform for him.

He is speaking freely (to me!)
warming the cold air around us
with laughter and ease,
washing away my fear and
sweeping us closer together in the rush.

In this moment he is mine;
we are deeply, completely alone, and
my mind is free to play out
all the might’s, and could’s and maybes
harmlessly behind loving, bloodshot eyes.

The torrent of words eventually
slows and fades away
(oh, but what a sound!)
leaving its warmth behind,
like a blanket all around us
in the darkness of night.