Tuesday, December 20, 2011

40. A Moment

Enveloped in some distant thought,
you turned to me;
still lost in muddled reverie
distracted blinked,
as if awakened from a dream
to dream again:
a smile whipped upon those lips –
and caught my breath;
this spontaneity, this joy -
alarmed me so,
such recognition undeserved:
it startled me,
this unrepentant chivalry –
oh! had I thought
such isolation and resolve
could save me too,
could render me immune to this?

Instead, that smile -
had pressed its ultimatum thus,
enticing, rare;
how such a small acknowledgement
could turn me mute!
and though a thousand storms of thought
so futile fought,
I - hesitant, confused – collapsed,
still blinking my bewildered eyes,
and unprepared
was forced to see the blinding sun
and wordless, smiled!

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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.

- Emily Dickinson