She’s sitting
cross-legged on the floor
plucking the fluff
from a deep pile carpet
too preoccupied with sadness
to find the time
for body language
for me to read
Her hair hangs in loosened ribbons
hiding the frame of her face
as her fingers drag her nails
across the grain
and my emotions
and I can’t reach her
through the noise
of all these thoughts
because someone’s tied my hands
behind my guilt
Sheila Knowles
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/deep-pile/
