Lassoing the Wind

 

I wish I could tell you 

but it’s late and the words 

would trip over my tongue

and come out twisted and wrong

and then where would we be?

I wish I could explain

as jumbled thoughts turn metaphor

and emerge as something else entirely…

and the last thing I would choose to do

is have you think me a fool.

I wish I could somehow express 

how kindred minds like ours 

know no home or time, 

we are the specters in the night, 

fireflies drawn to each other’s light

compelled, but unconfined.

I wish that I could verbalize

and yet how awkward that would be

when we both dwell upon this line

between our truth and fantasy.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021