Longing Unspoken

Maybe longing is best

When it remains unspoken

All coiled up within the bud of our soul

Gestating there silently in its right abode

For it often seems to me

When longing is voiced

It loses its power

And can so easily fade away

As the whiff of the breeze

Turns to vapour

That which the soul

Fed on through precious moments

Of internalised imagining

Weaving a dream

That could only unravel

Once spoken