Missed Connections in Athens
Fingers for Your Braille
The foothills, the mountains, the vales,
Always covered in mist,
I stumble through the woods of your heart,
A blind man, with no dog, no cane, no trail.
I am no cartographer, I am no mountain man’s son,
But here where Appalachia meets the Piedmont,
I am learning to steer by touch, and by the myriad,
Differing silences of that wood, that emanate like the sun.
But, oh, that I might love you well,
Instead of making such a mess of it all,
I’d need a heart that could traverse your skyline,
And had fingers, for your Braille.
I was recently doing some housekeeping in the Lovelorn Poets email inbox when I stumbled upon this poem I saved from well over a year ago. Re-discovering it was a happy occurrence as the Athens missed connections feed was at one time an interesting space filled with creative writing, poetry and random amusements. Alas, those days are long gone but I still hope that some day it will return to its former glory.