I would capture the intoxicating moment
when you stand
before the cabinet of glasses
to pick one for our guest
but you are stuck
because every single glass
is singing to you
its story of where we got it
who gave it to us
why we still have it
why we cherish it
the wonderfulness of each
It’s no simple thing
to pick one up!

Mysteriously
although I am sitting across the room
from where you stand
I know that this is what you are struggling with
loving every glass
even though you haven’t said a word
I know precisely what is going on.
You and I begin to chuckle.
Our guest cocks his head amused and confused.

Soon he’ll have had his water, and he will be gone.
You’ll be on my lap, and we’ll be kissing like never before,
time having dissolved.

I haven’t figured out how to paint that deliciousness.
So, I’ll paint what I can paint:
You on pause, hand on hip, finger to cheek,
about to reach
for the green lipped goblet.