A Speck of You

Across the worn oak table, light fell strange,

a sudden shaft, like stagecraft, from above.

And there, a tiny, perfect, dark exchange,

a speck of you, a whisper of your love.

Or just a stray, a fragile, velvet line,

against the soft curve of your cheek, so near.

It caught the gold, a signal, half divine,

a microscopic worry, or a tear.

I watched it shift, when you laughed, soft and low,

a small, dark arc that almost seemed to breathe.

To reach across, to brush it, let it go,

a silent wish, a simple, soft reprieve.

But I said nothing, let it simply be.

A tiny piece of you, adrift from me.