That I Could Sit Beside Her In Silence

By Ryan Brennan


It was the way she saw the world 

--the same way, it seemed, as I did-- 

that struck and stirred 

some tender and neglected place 

within me.  

She was beautifully open to life 

and yet critical of it 

in all the right ways.  

A young, pretty girl

with an old, wise soul,

she possessed both a healthy appetite 

for all the carnal pleasures, 

as well as a keen, discerning mind; 

rather than prestige or status,

she craved conversation, knowledge and experience.  

She rolled her joints 

with such suave certitude.  

The way she sat, the way she stood, 

the way she walked towards me, smiling and alight.  

That I could sit beside her in silence.  

That, however short our words may at times have come, 

music always filled the gap

and bound us ever-deeper together. 

That I could share with her

the songs which had moved me the most, 

knowing she’d not only ‘get’ them,

but love them just as much as I had.  

That night we sat on the terrace,

the rain pouring down all around us, 

drinking wine and listening to the blues;

the comfort and wonder of looking out at the world 

with her beside me. 



Ryan made the mistake of studying philosophy. He has many questions and few answers. He once asked a seagull what it was passionate about. It squawked, snatched his lahmacun and flew away.