“This is for you.”
–Lap-dropped bit of destiny
Shining in shaking fingers
Tentatively held for fear that-
The old man smiled under his
moustache, knowing that the child in his
lap would find joy in unusual places.
-everything would fall and
all the gain would prove to be mere cerebral
wisps, blown away in neuronal thunderstorm.
We hold this peculiar joy in our hearts because
we hope in the impossible.