A Certain Smile

There is a certain smile of which, a man could never wear,
but all men know of its presence; feeling it here or over there,
and every man knows of its absence from bitter taste, and shifting air;
like a dog, nose to the ground, they smell the laughter-thick and fair.

There is a distinct humour, and certain joke that men perfect,
the other half has wit and jest but its full extent neglect,
but to call it biological or social I reject,
a certain smile just motivates that half of the human sect.

A gift from one face to another sits a golden thrill,
in painful checks from rampant laughter, pouncing for the kill,
and is the joy from such a sight so whole it brings on chills.
So, all I must to bring it out I’ll do; you know I will.