Watch the plain is it unfolds, no planer words were said,
As I alone lay watching the evening sun ,
Fall in towards the night, but seeing all of you, that I can possibly see,
Looking at your face, the skin holding your eyes together in that remarkable
Way that only magicians could possibly place around us, by making us look here or there, while they do this or that, over there, down here, to our unwitting eyes.
And see the trueness of your faultless gaze, that half turned smile, that quickness of a glance that hides the real you, from me, in that delicate flower that holds you .
The passiveness is followed by the strictly interested, and hung low with the insight you hold so dear to heart, and can make me feel so alone, but so
Tied in that bundle you carry....but never, ever, tell anyone of it’s happenings.
Find me not in your imagination, less I can be there for you to find, hold me In your arms so tightly, unless I can be held time and again, keep me not, on the edge, but let me fall down to the mesa’s bottom, least you shall find me wanting to be there, again, with you.
Ralph Peck
Photo by Jake Krumwiede
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