Curate, connect, and discover
#100
It was a wondrous day with splendid company.
Old friends but fresh rushes of feelings, turns of conversation,
And the laughter?
Hers.
Rich, bubbling, pure.
Like mustard meadowlarks singing for mountains streams.
His.
Grounded, unexpected, revitalizing.
The rough stream of sounds a lake makes under the watch of a persistent moon.
And of course, mine.
Not much of note, but if I were to speculate,
A little kitten leaping up the scales of an out of tune piano.
we had harmonized together.
Every hour was full of sweet humor and compassions.
When I had slipped into something less than,
His hand was at my slumped shoulder, thin fingers spinning shapes into my sleeve.
When it happened again and I felt at a loss,
She hurried beside me to help roll up my sleeves.
I'd like to believe I had been there for them in the smallest of ways.
There was surprise hugs from behind and comments of sentiment,
Shared sandwiches and the sweetest of silences.
A trio like us made me think of
Mundane mornings, nights out and exploring, of-
I pulled away.
It's a wondrous friendship we shared.
In a way, their company was wondrous and fearful tucked in a bundle.
I had hoped to keep relishing in their laughter for a long time.
I’ve had other wonderful days,
And yet