The Gentle Pause

Paris Nude

She looked at the tiny droplets of water clinging to the window,

Breathed in the subtle change of air.

The sun was sliding, ever so slowly,

The gentle pause to the end of the day.

Are we so different?



Are we so different?

Does the river not cry as it stumbles and falls?

Is the flesh of rock not the same as mine only hardened by age?

Do your tears not join others and flow to the sea?

Your breathe, nourishment for another soul?

Your sweat damp like earth after rain?

Are we so different?

After all?