You send your laughter through the room
paired with perfume designed to diffuse
and I wonder how you manage
to arrive always at the point of ignition.
Beauty clings to you
the way a nursery lamp holds
the last drops of sunset the dark night long.
Any other woman would bring
a hint of gunpowder with her:
the potential for fireworks.
For all your glowing light,
I've never seen you spark.
You take your translucent joy
defuse the room, dampen the cynic blades
and suddenly we are determined
to glisten in your shadow.
Shine on, sweet lady, show the way
peace in your hand and love in your wake.
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