Between the lines

Late on a summer evening
in the not-quite-day
and not-quite-night of dusk
I walked out with nothing
but an empty net
to catch some twilight words for you.

Thoughts fluttered like moths
across the moon but I held back;
I did not have the heart to trap them in my net.

A night breeze slid gently
down the slope on which I lay,
tumbling metaphors like scents across the nodding grass
but they were delicate as gossamer and slipped between the weave and warp of words.

So I returned without the words
to tell you what you've meant to me;

but if you read between the lines
you'll find a poem there.

 
(c) A McN
 
 
Sometimes you want to show appreciation to someone but don't know the best way to begin. This was one of those times.