Sight

I saw you there,
And then...I cried.
That inward thing,
Had almost died.

The fire of self,
I had to learn.
Was embers in the ash,
And would not burn.

I could not tell,
Of any ties.
For words were spoken,
By the eyes.

For if love had been,
T'was now so cold.
And the nectar sipped,
Was not to hold.

Stepping so lightly,
On toes that dance.
My only hurt,
Was the upward glance.


E.P. 1908 - 1989