i’ll speak of chances, of godsends
and then perhaps of me
you’ll find words on my fingertips
ask them to write
knowing i’ll see
the kaleidoscope that appears
when your eyes speak of your mind
the dance within your step
when you’ve barely slept
to write a line
and when that line is said
singing every red you’ve made from blue
i’ll scribble down more scribbles
and know that lucky
is to have you