The Smiles What They're Worth

The possibilities,
explored meticulously, mentacularily,
were all illusions.

The children born,
unconsciously, serendipitously,
were not.

Blossums and faerie tales,
Wet things of moonshine,
mystery, and madamouselles...
Vibration, some say, a wave.

A rise and fall, a cadence,
A high and low, a drama,
A smile and frown, encumbant,
and sweet love, eternal.

The possibilities,
remembered, rendered, decembered,
bore themselves a chain.

The children
found no metaphor to suit them
and so smiled again.