Love is born in the frenzy,
The blunder onto blessing,
The kitchen accident of trust –
The flutter of your
Fingers that
Stretches, slips,
Spills
Every drop in
The lemonade pitcher
Without a single
Crack
To the glass.
We leave the rags
Untouched;
I dip my finger into
The puddle
And find the sugar
At the bottom.
Finally something!
And it is beyond lovely.