Conversing With My Love

Like the broken glass of a window pane 

His thoughts are fractured.

‘This’ doesn’t follow ‘that’

And next is nowhere to be seen.

Like flocks of sparrows

Letters organize into words

But without meaning

Without understanding.

Like prisoners escaping into the streets

Sentences break free of logic.

They no longer reach their end

And sometimes start past their beginning.

Like runners passing in leaps and bounds

Time avoids smooth ticks or tocks.

We spend our days together as they come

And as they go or as they have or haven't been.