Dangling Conversation (Baez Joan)

It's a still life water color, Of a now late afternoon, As the sun shines through the curtained lace And shadows wash the room. And we sit and drink our coffee Couched in our indifference, Like shells upon the shore You can hear the ocean roar In the dangling conversation And the superficial sighs, The borders of our alliance. And you read your Emily Dickinson, And I my Robert Frost, And we note our place with bookmarkers That measure what we've lost. Like a poem poorly written We are verses out of rhythm, Couplets out of rhyme, In syncopated time And the dangled conversation And the superficial sighs, Are the borders of our alliance. Yes, we speak of things that matter, With words that must be said,