I see things
No one else looks
I know the meanings

Pay attention to the small things
Little talks can read like books
I see things

Conversations defined by greetings
Feelings slip from hooks
I know the meanings

You can cave in all your ceilings
Body Language you mistook
I see things

High and low fill your feelings
From having no outlook
I know the meanings

Interactions are only dealings
Thieves, liars, and crooks
I see things
I know the meanings

Love to his singer held a glistening leaf,
And said: ‘The rose-tree and the apple-tree
Have fruits to vaunt or flowers to lure the bee;
And golden shafts are in the feathered sheaf
Of the great harvest-marshal, the year’s chief,
Victorious Summer; aye, and ’neath warm sea
Strange secret grasses lurk inviolably
Between the filtering channels of sunk reef.

All are my blooms; and all sweet blooms of love
To thee I gave while Spring and Summer sang;
But Autumn stops to listen, with some pang
From those worse things the wind is moaning of.
Only this laurel dreads no winter days:
Take my last gift; thy heart hath sung my praise.’