Whispers At Dusk Poem by Joseph Martin III

Early evening sweeping
the streets in golden orange.
Broom in hand I am sweeping
dust and cigarette butts,
revelling in the ritual of the ordinary.

First comes the feeling,
then the thought-
you are out there my love
though we have not yet met.

Still I can hear your heart singing
through dirty streets and alleyways,
the dullness amplifies the brightness
of your quiet expectant yearning.

Where are you now sweet woman
of heartbreak and untapped joy?
Do you know your call has been heard?

We are already together
just waiting for time
to catch up to us.

8/29/2005