Flash, bang wallop and a murmur of distress on a typical Wednesday water cooler day at the office.

 Flick flick went your hair and my embarrassment at our meeting.

 I have been in a processing mood since that day at the desk where I stole paperclips and your affectations.

 If there was a voice that I had found I have lost it: stolen, like the hope of two voices merging into one.

 If there was a meaning it got split into melancholy and hay-fever. Subsequent efforts have been much delayed.

 When I hear your voice; I know it will be done.

 And restoration will remain.

 

by : Alexander W. Kalim