The Secret

by
 Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.
I who don't know the secret wrote the line.
They told me (through a third person) they had found it but not what it was not even what line it was.
No doubt by now, more than a week later, they have forgotten the secret, the line, the name of the poem.
I love them for finding what I can't find, and for loving me for the line I wrote, and for forgetting it so that a thousand times, till death finds them, they may discover it again, in other lines in other happenings.
And for wanting to know it, for assuming there is such a secret, yes, for that most of all.

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