For a change

Maybe I talked too much.
Maybe I was too greedy, gathering up
the little silences and filling them
with anecdotes and observtions.
Maybe I should have listened more.

But I did enjoy coming alive,
feeling the somersault of metaphor
and simile tumbling and twisting as I 
snatched at ways to describe the
wonder of this life.

And I enjoyed the juxtaposition;
speaking of our every atom being the 
'dust of exploded stars'
as cold wet rain drifted down
from dark, damp skies.

I'm sorry if you found yourself wondering
where in the acres of monologue
you might plant your own 
well grounded wisdom.

Next time, if there is 
a next time after this time,
you can sow the seeds of conversation.

I will attempt to water them
with silent and attentive listening.
For a change.