It begins with a spark;
Unquantifiable.
Curiosity spilling
Into each sentence,
Like the leftover joy
Of a vivid dream.
Slowly it grows,
A hothouse flower,
Delicate, fragile
Ethereal in it\'s beauty,
Tended to sweetly
By each small word.
Without warning,
A collision,
Breathless and exhilarating,
Endless ripples
Scattering us both
Among the stars.