Saturday, January 28, 2012

Our Eyes

I see you peering back from underneath
The folds above my grandfather's - your father's
- eyes. The drooping eyes,
The brown eyes I inherited from you, that drip
Sadly down in the corners, that crinkle when you smiled,
Were eyes that you inherited from him.
And even though he came first,
You still left before him,
And now I see you appearing again,
Born again in those eyes, with their often
Vacant, searching expression, at the crinkly
Laugh of recognition, of love.
The lines in his face are similar to the lines you
Held in yours before you left,
And I'm once again made aware of the thin
Veil between we still living and where you are,
Seeing you peek out from behind his eyes, our eyes
(I can keep your secret), imagining you within,
Holding his hand as we held yours,
Waiting, waiting, waiting,
For all the lights to dim.

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