Hanging on to every little lilt in language and every nuance in inflection,
Us, a kindred entente,
whether underneath warmth of sun
or warmth between sweet parlance,
mouths breathe, minds come to life, and stories
escape the heart,
body and soul evolve in movements,
from gavotte to fugue,
a quid pro quo of experience,
fixated on the other, rapt in curiosity.

And my smile towards her
lingers on my lips because I see
her’s a fraction before it even reaches
her beautiful face.