Laughter

It flits like a restless bird
Through the window of the soul
And settles and builds a nest
Until the vessel becomes full.
Starting like a tiny spark of light
That bursts into quickening flame
It ravages the human heart and frame
Like fire and wood in harmattan.
Nations fall to their knees
(or should I say backs?) At its command
As they succumb to its ruthless strength
And roll under its power on the ground
It is the tenderest thing that effuses
A person with a liquid warmth
But the sharpest also that bruises
The egos of those who oppose its assault
It bridges the gap of silence
Between strangers and awkward friends
Reduces all tension and pretence
To little pebbles of worthless sand
It is the reason for the twinkle
And the tinkling merry sound
That make your being tingle
From hair to tiny toe
If by now you are still wondering
What I am going on about
Mark Twain once said that Against Laughter
Nothing else on earth can stand.