..
We used to talk tall
-tales, surface trails
of circle flow going no
-where.
These last small drips
of us, this end, these
stilted st(r)ands of
hope, they’re fleeting.
Just this:
our beating
hearts.
..
Wordled.
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Whimsygizmo's Blog 
I can hardly type through the tears that welled in my eyes. Sigh.
So much emotion, so few words. So moving.
Visit Keith’s Ramblings
So much sadness interspersed between those fleeting strands of hope.
These last small drips of us… No! I want so much more. There is depth is this brief poem, De. Brava!
Perhaps when we reach a stage of less is more we are communicating at a more meaningful level..one which requires no words