A poem
Words come easily, and cost little
to those who are strangers to warmth.
They are as the blur of a hummingbird’s wings,
or the ambiguity of a sigh,
obscured by the depth of emotion.
As tears are the bridge to childhood
and the camaraderie of the aged,
so the embrace of a lover
is the sunrise and the sunset,
and poetry is a heartsease
that scents our garden.