License to Care

When was it called care?
Was it when the moonlight flooded into your
island and it brought fountains of
Drops, each showing a glimmer of a faint
smile that is now no more?

Or was it when the pages of
the Documents were spread and you
saw more than words; and thoughts left you
Breathless in the race of deadlines?

Was it in the voices that never
got Through because of swarms
of buzzes that took you away
from that place you called home?
Yes, you tried.

Maybe it was in the beautiful sunset
ridden lands, in the trance of cultures
When the eclipse taunted your
Loneliness. Because even the coldest
of containers can be beautiful.
Can be made to order to fit your heart.

For me, perhaps, it was in that look.
No one has ever looked at me in quite that way.