Somewhere in between
we succumbed to the pleasure
to not yield to the pressure,
or so it would seem.
A dusty puzzle
and a foggy memory,
lost in words,
lost in translation.
The acquisition of skills
comes from constant practice,
engaging persistently
in the things that matter,
but so does it work
for the sensory matters,
for the touch of the coveted
means a caress of what’s desired.
To succumb is to yield,
or so it should seem.