Sometimes a thing is just a thing with no stakes* And the ardour of a mid summer’s night kiss just a fling, A memory lingering long after the act like shimmer of dusk on a lake.
Sometimes the moment is all there is to everything, A gift to savour, like the sparkling stones a river brings To its delta, ground round by their unseen journey.
When the hoops begin to multiply, and everything becomes a drudge Does it mean the dream has begun to fade, and that our scars and secrets are in the light?
Or does it mean that joy has hitched a ride To a distant plain, and that dark clouds have begun to shove our sun into a desolate corner?
--- *Line purloined from La Reine’s response to the NaPoWriMo Day 14 prompt.