Prognosis

You will recognize the signs

When the brush of the tiniest inch of skin,

A fingertip against your collarbone catapults you into the twilight zone

Where day is night and the night is never-ending

 

Don’t be surprised when you hear tomorrow in his voice

When every laugh echoes through the walls of a little brick chapel

And every hug says “Honey I’m home”

Don’t worry, when your heartbeat,

And footsteps and sight are in sync

And fall offbeat when he’s a step too many away; too far across the dance floor

 

Don’t hold back, fantasize-

As you sit next to him on a park bench or is it a church pew? A rocking chair or a hospital bed? Or on a porch swing, sucking on a bittersweet mango from next door’s garden…

 

I repeat, do not be alarmed

That is not a heart attack or a seizure

It’s the feeling of your frantic heart knocking against your ribcage

in a desperate attempt to escape your chest cavity and rest in the hands of its rightful owner.

 

Don’t fight it, this is love

Take a dose of the love of your life, with a spoonful of you make me smile

And call me in the morning.