The Gaze
I once met the gaze of a man
watching me as we moved
courageously across the land—
in plane, bus and armed check points—
it was always us, and the lust
—of a thousand words left to dust.
Our chins were up toward the sun—
its energy pulling us, as if one
—it filled us red and drew us near,
like love can do when it appears.
Many moons and suns passed by us
then in one instant—as the gaze,
I turned my face with all my grace
and put him in my suitcase
like a memory left to trace
I opened the window, said goodbye
then drifted onward with a sigh
it was not as easy as the bird flies.
The moons, suns—there were many
before my eyes gazed toward another
one who came with depth and soul,
but also with a hidden toll
—enough to turn my face, once more.
With window open, and eyes shoreward
returning moments tumbled forward
like the linger of—the once met gaze
that so I see, never was left in the haze,
—even as gray hues turn my hair
and only words have I to bare.