Chance tapped me on the shoulder – then hid.
She likes to play this game.
Keeping me guessing at which side she’ll show up on.
And when I turn my head to see her, she’ll move.
She does this so that I’ll keep my eyes open.
So that I won’t become idle.
She’ll even go so far as to leave traces of herself when she’s gone.
Making my skin tingle at the possibilities she leaves behind.
When something stirs inside of me, inspiring the notion of hope – that’s her.
When the light of morning pulls me out of slumber – that’s her.
Chance turns up with each consideration.
Quickening my pulse at the thought that we’ll meet again.
In the event that we’ll come face to face.
Constantly mindful of the moment if it should arrive.
And that’s just as chance would have it.