Poetry

Unsaid

You’ve got my back; your firm hands grip my shoulders

as I lean into you and filter the weight of the day

from my limbs to yours. Not all of it,

an even distribution so we can both still stand.

With a smile and a nod, we walk with our arms linked

and our steps synchronised, enjoying the bond

that was always a potentialĀ and has now flowered.

Words go unsaid because vocalising our thoughts

isn’t necessary — they’re in the twitch of our fingers,

the skip or slump of our feet

and the spark in both of our eyes.

Poetry

Friend

The modulation of your voice soothes the words into my mind,

gentle nudges that become understanding; a pause to let me ponder

before you begin again. No judgement, no masks, no need to block up

who I am just to stroll under the blossoms and shadows.

Comfortable in my movements when I’m beside you, my language

is easy for you to read. I might not say much, but you know I am far from silent

and pick up the waves I’m unconsciously drifting on.