I suggest,
kiss your wrist with abandon.
You sway my hand, grasped tight.
Breath a short gasp,
Tone on tip-toes,
recalculating, balance exact,
no sudden motions:
You're happy?
Yes.
Shameless grins,
Incredulous.
My answer floats above us
one of those giant soap bubbles
we blew on the beach at sunset.
We watch it undulate; transfixed.
A week or so
later, you'll go,
across oceans, even,
and pursue a more solid joy.
One which does not waver,
A joy which you can master.
One not prone
to burst, to shatter.
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