Social interactions are seldom valued for what they are.
When out of the crowd, a friend is randomly met
We are pleased not for the interaction, but for the friend
And why one is a friend, instead of not, is all there is to friendship;
And this is how the pieces of evolution fit into one.
We look forward to the next interaction whatever it is,
And so friendship is truly love.
But love has intricate demands
Which love hiding in friendship never understands.
When we take the hand of a friend and kiss that hand,
And kissing takes a journey which never stops,
A different interaction occurs,
One belonging to the sea, to the rain, to the green lands
Heaped up around windy mountains, valleys, and lands
And we love the interaction for itself—lost in the kiss,
Just as you forgot what poetry was when reading this.