There are days that go by
where I hardly
see your face.
I know you are there
but you slip past me
like water through
my hands.
It is fruitless to
gather all the lost
days,
sitting on the floor,
surrounded by
your pictures,
wondering where the time
went.
I only need to look into
your eyes.
It only takes a minute,
really,
looking at you,
looking at the mole
on your neck,
looking into your
curious, delighted
eyes.
It only takes a minute
to really see
you.
And when our eyes
meet,
a spark of time
flies into the face
of all the odds,
giving us a moment
with
no end.
No comments:
Post a Comment