I swear to God, sometimes,

I know it’s you,

and it’s then I become thankful,

almost giddy with the possibility.

Though I’m told in silence,

not to respond,

I’m just happy and relieved.

Everything I believe is still 

walking across a canvas,

like an artist’s brush stroke.

It’s like the short story filled with nuance,

the kind only a lover might ascertain.

In that one moment, my world does sing.