Is the sky half-full, you think; or maybe, half-empty?
See clouded colours, distance in your eyes
Looking out from the hillside, as though staring
Out over water. Like all secrets, yours
Turns glass to the touch: cool, brittle, and fine
As silver. I dare not glance my reckless mind
Over its surface: instead, I too look out,
Notice the moths delight in indecision,
Watch the light take its silence to its grave;
Keeping this secret with you, feeling that
Reticence is precious. But tell me, truly:
Is this sky of ours half-full, or wide, half-empty?
Palimpsest 
Dear James
This poem really reaches me, I can see it, imagine almost I am the narrator, feel the beauty. A haunting poem,casually written but expressing intensity of emotion. Thanks. Gran
Sent from my iPad
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