Will words come?
Ideas weave themselves
Like strings of spring vine?

Now it’s time …
A solemn answer,
Just your best.

Eyes cast upward,
Downward, right,
And left.

Eyes that beg
In dramatic
Silence.

Eyes searching
For minute
Flickers –
Tossed out by
Vague heres-and-theres.

Thinking, blinking,
Reaching backward,
Ah!  Something ...  something,
Rememb'ring at last!

Grabbing a time,
With sparks
Of relief;
There they are!
I see them, too!
In those baby eyes.

Follow the steps –
Pour on the juice –
Butter it up –
A kiss for Good Luck.

Our Stories,
Our Amens.