She

She

Never before have I yelled out a name

Into the existence of times black hole

But you only live once as far as we know

And even an artist bares children of fruit

I painted her legs, they were not moving

I caressed her hips and they thought to smile

She then opened her eyes, I only thought

Because they were already open

As much as I imagine, I am wrong

As much as I can see, I am blind

And all the things I want her to be

She is already there before me

© 4/22/1997, William Grant Preston

Grant's Rants - Poetry