So many discontinued conversations,

Aborted discussions.

Unfinished thoughts that pop into our heads

When we're far apart.

Does the world have enough time

For us to say all we have to say?

Does the clock have enough minutes

To one day complete all our cogitation?

Exchanges retired,

Locutions obstructed.

Continually intermittent

Long stories hyphenated and strung together

One after the next.

Hoping not to forget important portions.

Always omitting one element or another.

Maybe one day the thought train

Will finally unload its complete cargo.

When we're old and grey

And have nothing to entertain us

But the sound of our words.