to the innocent ways
you used to utter my name

and grabbed my hand
to guide me through
the tight-packed
ocean of faces
swimming for fingers
and grasped in trances

:

so simply when I look back
to the days of
no confusion
recorded--briefly behind
the lens of my vision

I am knocked off my feet
by the beauty
of the feat
of our garden

*flowers

            etch

the lines of your

eyes      
      
            behind

the bridge--you'll find

The key lies

          within the roots--

to disguise                    

the crime

of feeling deep

                 inside

confide

                  in the deaf

       ears

of the unspoken word--

to hear

     your silence

as it Cries