It's a still-life watercolor
of a now late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtain lace,
and shadows wash the room

And we sit and drink our coffee,
couched in our indifference
Like shells upon the shore,
you can hear the ocean roar

In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives

And you read your Emily d___inson,
and I my Robert Frost
And we note our place with bookmarkers
that measure what we've lost

Like a poem poorly written,
we are verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhyme,
in syncopated time.

In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
Are the borders of our lives

Yes we speak of things that matter
with words that must be said
"Can a___ysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theatre really dead?"

And now the room has softly faded,
and I only kiss your shadow
I cannot feel your hand,
you're a stranger now unto me

Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
In the borders of our lives

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