Sometimes in
the silent vastness of afternoons,
emerging,
floating from the pages of a book,
the world appears like a
distant murmur, a
suggestion, a
sail on a river.
Trying to make something of this gossamer silence I
carve words onto pages,finding
childhood delight in my hand
writing;
hoping
my letters gain
a sureness of stroke
my words, deprived of certain keys,
better chosen
my writing, a
tactile emotion
Tony Xavier 