Our faces blur as we whirl past each other, like beams of light in caves of darkness –
Moving too quickly for an eye to take shape, a mouth to form words, or a kiss.
Sometimes a sweet scent of another wafts past us like a soft touch we must have imagined.
We’re startled awake for but an instant, until the swirl reclaims us.
Not a long lost memory; still[ness] busy being born.