One Love Poem

Silenced – eventually –
by you saying I love you
I longed to respond with equal depth
- or even fatuous cliché –
but I looked at you,
and fell silent.

Back home I slurped overripe plums
writing poetry.
The juice went up my nose and
dribbled down my chin as
I struggled for a metaphor
to describe

to capture you in words;
the way Rich’s VIII
captivated us both.

Breathless, voiceless in the presence
of the wordsmith who wove
the warp. I am clumsy in my efforts
to express a promise. A working
of an old story in a new tongue
and I fall silent.

(c) Liz Willows 2000