Laughter is the silk that touches hands
woven with the flair of fairy wings
caressed by cartographers with no plans
to map the throat before we start to sing
Falling on each other like the rain
splashing in the gratefulness of glee
winding in our rivers and our flames
shooting up like branches on a tree
Graceful buds blooming in the sun
flowers with colors bright and gay
shaking with our spines until we're done
and we begin dreaming again