I smile when I read this line of Shakespeare
And I nod to myself
And think
That never have I been so satisfied
With a few words typed on paper.

And I wonder if someone
Has sat at their kitchen table reading this book
Just as I have
And paused at this phrase
And was warmed by the thought
That maybe someone else sees the world like they do.

Sometimes I think
It is all a mistake
That the object of my dreams is just black lines on white paper.
But I begin to read the play again
And breathe its breaths of gentle truth
Until I am drifting away
To continue the quest for a ‘someone else.’