MEETING

She floated by my desk
like a hummingbird weaving from flower to flower,
reconquering space in slow motion,
then vanishing like a dream at daybreak.

She wore a mini skirt
and owned a smile
that made pupils dilate
and hearts break.
Her laugh splashed of happiness
and bursts of pure joy,
like the morning mist of Victoria Falls
as it disappeared in the filtered light
of an endless African sky.

Like the leopard or the house cat,
she was sculpted in a total state of completion,
requiring neither additions nor deletions...
She was pefection...
in an imperfect world.

She was just twenty-one.

She worked like she walked,
like an effortless gust of wind
blowing over the dunes of Namibia
from morning to dusk,
stopping only once ...
to look in my direction.


Until that infinite moment of tenderness,
I was lost in my own center...
But on that day,
I was driven to look for more.
On that day,
I not only found religion,
I unearthed nirvana...

and I prayed.



© JOHN PISCATELLA