There is something
thrilling
and hesitant
and slightly
off-centered
tender
in the act of saying:

I know you;
at least, I think I do.

I think my heart has met yours before,
on some excursion
into the neverwhen
and everywhere.

There is some sign,
some sudden
recognition –
a falling into
place.

And time
cannot deny
or conceal
the stutterstep
and stammer
of our knowingness.

We have collided
somewhen,
neverwhere,
and burst into
ribbons of delight
and danced.

And it has just been
until now,
this very moment,
that we have caught
each other’s eye
enough to remember
that
I know you,
and have met your heart
before.

c Stacey Zisook Robinson
30 April 2014