When beauty fills the eye and encases mind
The will to put pen to pad is oft hard to find.
The moment is too peaceful and perfect
And words would but distract,
From that which beckons calm to soul and ceasing to act.
So instead I absorb; the moment passes by
And is lost but save for the imprint,
Not even a memory, for in time it is forgot.
Its effect lingers on though like trails of wafting smoke
For in that brief stillness of life a small picture was seen
Of that which is not broke.
