My hand
tries to tell the paper
in quick unkempt strokes
how it was with us
how on a hillside for an hour
we spoke only rain
trying to mimic its language
before lapsing back into
our human
tongue again
how we spoke to the ghosts
who surrounded us
the old stones
in the graveyard
only able to speak
thier names & dates
excited by our kisses
my hand
tries to tell the paper
how it was with us
but as always
words
fail me
forgive me
my love.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-heart-tries-to-tell-the-paper/
