The Bubble
Our words to each other
Are poor feeble tools
Unwieldy, inefficient, inaccurate
Yet they built something
We fumbled yes
It's part of our practice
And make me feel hope
That when we meet
We find ourselves
In a place where all else disappears
Except the two of us
Our minds
Our emotions
Mixing
Like water in a bowl
A place where words dissolve
Like mints
Into their true feelings
And our minds as one
Find a place
Outside space and time