Pinches
A poet once said, that except for those of us free from desire
the rest of us are children: and so it made me giggle
when the little girl said, "He pinches me sometimes."
It was that she was so cute, her spirit so shrewd,
the combination of the two, that the brother
was moved to direct two fingers her way—
animal acknowledgement that the universe
had created something worth acknowledging,
something comforting,
something inspiring,
something worth fighting for.
Maybe it was she who was doing the pinching,
or at least an equal amount, and had only noted
his part—regardless, at its brightest the act of pinching
is an act of love, an evidence of it existing,
and yet another reminder of all that matters.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
No comments:
Post a Comment