What an art it has become to be grateful.
Expressions develop double meaning egos,
thank yous become IOUs,
and smiles are lit in expectation.
When I think of you,
for my smile, though imprisoned by introverted bars,
is pleased whenever you visit.
I thank you,
for your thoughtfulness is unmatched.
Selfless in your being,
I question whether someone can be selfishly selfless.
I give just to get a glimpse of your quiet gratitude,
to lie in the hammock on the corner of your mouth,
to brave your winter as you inhale, and welcome your summer as you exhale.
I am grateful,
for you remind me that art can never truly be mastered.