Monday, January 31, 2011

Across Universes

She hated the sound
Of her own voice
The way she spoke
In raspy whispers
Like a snake sliding
Over a rusty pipe

He loved the sound
Of her written word
She liberated him
By her fluent prose
From the clawing solitude
Of his prison cell

Prisoners both
One with a tube in her neck
One with his freedom confined
Meeting in that free universe
Of ideas

1 comment:

Vidya said...

I can certainly relate.