Even poets pay bills, she said

folding the letter into a white-whiskered

dandelion.

Signpost

Sometimes one conversation is enough to propel into existence a chain of occurences. Such as love. It begins with something small and before you know it the heart is gathering momentum like a steam engine on rattling tracks. You realize you've come a long way from the first signpost question that now dangles at the edge of the map of memory:

"You are a tiny person. Do you float on lily pads?".