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the price of gleaming...
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by bruce on July 25, 2004
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

-- e.e. cummings
©2004-16 bruce grant, all rights reserved
Messages:

beauty
l - Jul 26, 2004

sublime
baqbool - Jul 27, 2004

magnificent
marta_mendes - Jul 29, 2004

Beautiful pic & poem
Maria - Aug 03, 2004

Edging south like the leaves of autumn
crusty_bread - Oct 30, 2004

I'm in love with this colour.
nosuchsoul - Dec 01, 2004

greeny beautifulllllll
hermano - May 02, 2006

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