Tickled pink
And happy to see you smile
When the other dark clouds that have threatened previously
Have been exorcised
Leaving only this sunshine
In strands of gold
Playing through your hair
Through the silver streams of the river
Where we walk, collecting twigs and skimming stones
And making memories
While the frogs chorus with the cicadas
And the wind whispers through tree fronds
And the occasional dot of a wild bird is caught
In our peripheral vision
The same vision that we cast glances at one another
Scared to talk, unless it is the idle talk
Of avoiding topics of gravity
Concentrating instead on dreams of the future
And collecting the bones of the past
Still, when you smile, it is a precious jewel
Even when caught sideways by a mischievous glance
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