They're both convincedthat a sudden passion joined them. Such certainty is beautiful, but uncertainty is more beautiful still. Since they'd never met before, they're surethat there'd been nothing between them. But what's the word from the streets, staircases, hallways--perhaps they've passed by each other a million times? I want to ask themif they don't remember--a moment face to facein some revolving door?perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?a curt "wrong number" caught in the receiver?but I know the answer. No, they don't remember. They'd be amazed to hearthat Chance has been toying with themnow for years. Not quite ready yetto become their Destiny, it pushed them close, drove them apart, it barred their path, stifling a laugh, and then leaped aside. There were signs and signals, even if they couldn't read them yet. Perhaps three years agoor just last Tuesdaya certain leaf flutteredfrom one shoulder to another? Something was dropped and then picked up. Who knows, maybe the ball that vanishedinto childhood's thicket? There were doorknobs and doorbellswhere one touch had covered another beforehand. Suitcases checked and standing side by side. One night, perhaps, the same dream, grown hazy by morning. Every beginningis only a sequel, after all, and the book of eventsis always open halfway through. . Anonymous
I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.
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Pablo Neruda
It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.
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Virginia Woolf
Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!
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Edwin Arnold
The true poem rests between the words.
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Vanna Bonta
Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.
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Mark Strand
