Conflagration
it was something in the way you suppressed a smile
not self-conscious concern
being caught laughing at a corny joke,
more a slight pursing of the lips
a lover whispering a forbidden promise
in the midst of Sunday morning congregation
I raise an outstretched palm to shield my eyes from the sun
light seeps through the tiny gaps
between my fingers
a red luminescence.
that is what I saw in you
a joyousness.
the curve of your smile prevented its escape
so it poured out of you
in every other way.
I half expected you to explode
in a hail of fireflies.
Hang on, that doesn’t rhyme!
You know, if we weren’t friends, I’d get seriously shirty about how easily you produce these absoltely gosmackingly brilliant pieces, apparently without even raising a sweat. Don’t know how you do it – but you do it so well.