Life, created with pureness, dances in the light.
An unscripted innocence,
so real
so abstracted.
The first touch of love, so crisp, so true.
Fragile like thin glass.
I want to cry because you are not here yet.
I dream of the faceless man,
whose acts of love will become your father
and my true love,
before there was you.
Michelle Poet
August 7, 2001