'Felicta...Angie...Felicta! '
I smile
to see the sound
of my words
translated into breath
the ghost of the sound
dancing before me
on the cold night air
pierced with stars
watch as my words
travel halfway across the world
translated into
the little breeze
that disturbs
those loose strands of hair
that you absentmindedly
put back in place
& smile
& wonder
...why?
'Felicta...Angie...Felicta! '
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/midnight-at-st-marks-for-angie/
