If I told you how my heart leaps when you
hug me, how I thrill when you speak my name
and confide of writing and notebooks too,
how I softly thank the Muse that you came
to speak — would it terrify you to hear
this, or thrill you, or both? Would you retreat
like a threatened fawn, controlled by old fears,
or smile and hug me again, action complete
when I hug you back? If I describe my smile
as you walk away, wanting to follow
but chancing to stay — to give you space while
I cherish brief time and touch we’re allowed —
would my secret cause you shock or sweet surprise?
Or do you sense all this while watching my eyes?
Roger Armbrust
March 16, 2015
