What an art it has become to be grateful.


Expressions develop double meaning egos,

thank yous become IOUs,

and smiles are lit in expectation.


I’m happy.

When I think of you,

and you,

you too.


I smile,

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.

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