For might I look upon you
to see the same as in my gaze.
There is a world inside we do
covet have secret wanton ways.
What might we ask of simple glance
to give feature to that held outside
yet always will arise that only chance
to know, to feel, to breathe inside.
When might an ache seeking softer tone
give her great pleasure to then in glass
see similar, find light, an internal known
serene identity, sing aloud, (leaves of grass).
The wisdom of one poet knew his own eye
Her reflection sweet speak I in starry nigh.
© Scott F Savage 10/2020