Sipping Old Words

I count footfalls in pairs,
six plus two, and two again,
for that is how long ago
I laid my soul upon your hands.

In this longing to know again
that touch of your palms
against my skin
I stop to sip old words
from cups brimful of sighs
cautiously put away in days past.

I drink my fill to satisfy
this thirst for you,
savouring first drop to last,
for I don’t want to miss a thing



Janet Reid
july 2008

Written for a challenge to write without the letter E