Not the kind

When your bills are paid,

Your pantry is full,

And bank account overflows.

No, not this temporary kind,

But the kind felt

At the gurgling sound of hot coffee

Poured into your cup

By someone you love

On a cold winter morning.

The kind where soft skin

Brushes against rougher skin

Just to be assured

You are still there.

And there is music,

Not electronic-

Nothing jarring or loud,

But the type of music you play

By the water at nightfall

While an impoverished group,

Mouths dry, throats parched,

Gather around

Thirsty for the treasure

You have found-

The comfort of love.