How often does a moment count
more than simply passing
a chain of strangers tracking one another
not speaking, or trading secrets
I rarely paused to ponder
gather my breath in such as these
A lifetime of sips
dare savor
Do their eyes drink me in
A smile that heals
A voice that echoes in me
words linger
I am prone to grope for some kind of meaning
That suits a burning need for reason
Accommodating my template; a tradition,
a grand purpose handed down for who knows how long.
A premise hovers,
Then flitters ever-so-softly
to perch just within sight
softly cooing as a dove’s refrain
She helps me laugh.
A knowing smile sweeps over my stern countenance.
What more magic does any soul require?
What can calm doubtful fears
more surely
Than liberating laughter
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