Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Always Watching, Often Waiting

it's hard to get around or over your brown eyes
the way they find and surround mine in photos

it's hard to know that you're somewhere else
and remember the way you once felt so close

in those moments just before we'd go to sleep
when love seemed to keep you through the night

and I'd wake up to see you softly watching me

with so much adoration contained in your sight

in my mind I race through these conversations

where I say to you, certain, how much you mean

to me and the way I still feel plenty for you

but they always end with I wish I'd foreseen

I have these dreams every now and then of those

hopeful, wide open, deep ocean seeking eyes

meeting with mine as the beginning and last

thing I'd see each day and contemplate the size

of our involvement had it been perhaps easier
to maintain than we'd maybe made to believe

I wonder if to me they'll always look the same

if I'll never forget everything they'd seen

sometimes I look confronted to new come lovers

and try well to pretend there's more there

than I know's the truth but it doesn't long last
it seems eventually they see in mine the despair

my restless glances back and forth between time

trying to handle its unbearable lightness

evidence of wonder of whether greatness is extant

or still to come and my uncertainty's rifeness

and though many brown eyes there are to be seen
it's less their traits that I need to be shown

rather more it's the stories that they can tell

and the affection in them accessible to know

so in those photos I guess the truth of your eyes

that I peruse and in them find time to reflect

upon's traveling down memory's waning clarity lane

awaiting it's ardence once again let intersect

and a worthy question it is whether to forget

you can or should try to a once love's eyes

is it best remember what you kept as happy

or pursue the ephemeral with better yet's surmise?

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other people waiting

we're not strangers anymore