Festival

There are times when I drop my shoulders

and feel myself fall as a stream of confetti

without the wondrous sense of ecstasy

I can see in the eyes of your child.

And in times like these, I pray

for a gentle soul to sweep me up

and speak of how I wept,

and see a glint in their own eyes.

For what's the point of confetti

If the warmth of laughter remains

absent from our hollows

without a smile to save?