Is love then sparked by but a simple smile,
Or yet upon a twinkle of the eye;
Some artful quirk that can the heart beguile,
A testing moue upon the soul to try?
A spate of laughter floating on the air,
A graceful dally spun about the room,
A single curl of sun blessed raven hair
Or wafting scent as from a summer bloom?
Perhaps by all of these, or none at all;
A grand gestalt or yet some locus prime,
A fancied web there to sound wit enthrall
There so to hobble, trussed by one’s own mind?
It is but pleasured bonds that bind me so
Yet of what essence, I may never know.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.