The Smile

THE SMILE

It could have been the sun on
Tile
The mirth of wine, yet all the
While,
It was on the ticking of the
Dial
That i looked up, and caught your
Smile.

The parted mouth, a winsome
Hedge
A playful dance upon the
Edge
Of a whispered air that
Breathes
And waltzes on imprinted
Leaves.
A hint of charm that cannot change
Warmly natural – and
Unarranged.

Nor is my memory lost or
Past
When you smiled,
The die was cast.

A poem by Michael Jenkins

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About Camilla

I once was a caterpillar but when I grew up I found I had the most beautiful wings.
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