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.