Fragile Sounds

Hand upon hand and fingers entwined

Tongues of flame dance from palm to palm

Three birds cry

as new morning sun warms the ground

Bare feet touch soft earth

Eyes dare to steal glances from one another

Fragile silver bells

chained round ankle and wrist, begin to play

The delicate sounds

fills the ears like a flood

There is no other sound to be heard

There is nothing else at all

Only a moment

There was no past

nor will there be future

Never growing old

Never being young

All that exists is a moment

And the texture of skin

the touch of the air

one captured gaze

and the delicate sound

of fragile, silver bells