He used to sandpaper the tips <br /> <br />of his fingers until they <br /> <br />caught no silk. <br /> <br />He brushed his teeth, <br /> <br />then he combed his hair, <br /> <br />parted it on the wrong side. <br /> <br />Forty-five years <br /> <br />and three hundred and sixty days <br /> <br />he still has no better ways <br /> <br />to say, 'I love you'. <br /> <br />He goes for walks around the pasture <br /> <br />by the pond and up the bank <br /> <br />and past the dead pine tree <br /> <br />struck by lightning <br /> <br />whose branches have fallen off <br /> <br />and lay around the ground <br /> <br />He walks by without a sound <br /> <br />wishing he could walk on and on. <br /> <br />His soul walks by without a sound.<br /><br />Midnights Voice<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-better-way/
