Pocket lint is love:
cozy, secret, and inexplicable,
buried in every person’s pocket,
a puff of imagination.
Some do not care for it.
They flick it away,
emptying their pockets of feeling,
while others collect it,
stashing it close to their soul
where it can breathe and thrive.
It may not be beautiful, predictable, or welcome,
but I welcome pocket lint,
I welcome love.