Week 5

"You are amazingly complex.
You make me want to read."
That's what he said to me,
his big blue eyes locked onto mine.
My smile gave me away,
or at least a part of it.
And that, he told me,
started a symphony deep within;
his heart started drumming,
the beat raced to his brain
and made poetry exit his lips
and enter mine.
It had been a while for both of us,
laying in bed,
writing prose with our touches.
These things are essential in the moment,
so I freeze them in memory and ink.
The rest will disappear into nothing.
Memory fades faster than we anticipate.