the things you have seen
for an ancient love

Sometimes I wish
     I could take out your eyes and wear them. 
     Not in the sick way you think of, 
     Where gore drips down your face
     Like some low budget horror flick.
     But so I could see the many things that you have seen,
     The moments that are out of my vision. 
     So I could see the ghostly white of the moon you saw 
one night in autumn,  her outline silhouetted in the moonbeams. 
     The closing eyes of your nana as they slipped off into eternal sleep, 
     The way her form warped with your tears. 
     The way your favorite spring flower first greets your eye 
and turns your heart to song, 
     The way she smiled at you when she said yes. 
     Such private moments, each so beautiful, a story of their own.
     As our eyes close on them, none can share the beauty, 
not even should you be a breath away. 
     There is a mighty sea between you and me, 
     One that will never be crossed, where eyes cannot share
     the fleeting moments of life. 
It was this I wished to share with you, 
the  memory of vision, of common beauty stored, remembered. 
That world is gone to me now, 
and I will never know the things your eyes have seen, 
the worlds your mind has borne, 
the many dreams that have danced in your heart. 

NEL  4/05