One day people will touch and talk perhaps 
easily, 
And loving be natural as breathing and warm as 
sunlight, 
And people will untie themselves, as string is unknotted, 
Unfold and yawn and stretch and spread their fingers, 
Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed returned to the sea, 
And work will be simple and swift 
as a seagull flying, 
And play will be casual and quiet
as a seagull settling, 
And the clocks will stop, and no one will wonder
or care or notice, 
And people will smile without reason,
Even in winter, even in the rain.


Submitted by Stephen Fryer