Fresh picked goodness
Plucked from the farmer’s market
Tastes like honey crisp apples
And the snap of fresh celery
Crinkled eyes
Hidden smiles
That can’t be fully hidden by masks
A silent exchange
A muffled laugh
A small interaction
Brief but still meaningful
To get us both through the day
At home there are folders and folders
Of screenshots piled up on my desktop
It’s a constant battle
To balance order and chaos
But I have a stockpile smiles from the market