What is it?

"Words", she said.
And I nodded,
as I usually did
when she was involved,
then shrugged.

"What now?", she asked.
And I shrugged again,
my hand passing
over my chin and through
my beard.

"You disagree?", she guessed.
And I raised my hands
in the air with
palms outstretched.

"Very well, have a go then," she told me.
And I coughed,
quietly,
and gathered my thoughts,
such as they were.

"You're stalling," she accused.
And I laughed,
then swept her off onto
a tour of worlds too numerous,
too grand and subtle,
colourful and stark,
emotional,
logical,
heartless yet full of the hope
that someone will come along
and recognize an image,
or a reflection,
and pass it on.