For Lillya

(I decrease)

See the look in her eye.

Samuel stood by, going on about philosophies and theologies
With a book resting on the table.

Her legs hung over the edge of her chair,
Swinging in the air, never touching the floor.

Samuel opened the book and held it in his hands,
Turning to the correct page.

She played with the loose sleeves
Of her blue and white dress,
Just a little too large for her eight-year-old frame.

Samuel began to read aloud
About wisdom's amazing things.

She turned towards the window
And looked outside at the grass and the trees,
Where the sun reflected the morning brightly
Upon the hair of any child who stared.

Samuel paused and commented
About. . .something.

She put a hand to the brass necklace
Around her neck and held it between
Her thumb and her ring finger,
Playing with the links in the chain
As her eyes remained fixed on the sunlight.

Samuel rested a hand
On the text.

A smile came to her face as she slid from her chair,
As if unaware that she was now
Standing by the table,
Looking out the window at solid things,
No longer aware of the peculiar words
Coming from her friend and teacher.

Samuel stopped
Talking.

She started singing a song she had learned
From the other children on a day
Much like this one, when light from the sky
Shone on them as they laughed and played
And imagined that the great things in life
Could never be found in ink, the truth could never
Just be heard in words—not even from the mouth of a friend.

Samuel
Listened.