You make me smile.
I know you don’t mean to.
It happens every time I see your face,
and I imagine your voice.
Then I read your words,
but they are not for me, and yet
it makes me smile.
Illogical.
I won’t even try to explain it,
not to you, not to anyone.
Not even to myself.
And it doesn’t matter
it’s just a smile.
I have done nothing wrong.
There is nothing to justify.
But I will never tell.
You make me.
©2012 Garden Summerland
