written by: Zach Zajac
I wish I could see what you see
When you watch the haystacks
Hang from a lily wall.
All I see
Are plump golden pyramids
Vibrating against rusty horizons.
I can’t imagine what you find
Held tightly inside those ornate frames
That bewitches you so much.
What childhood memory
Frolics and plays
On Monet’s grassy brush strokes?
What future fantasy
Marches triumphant along
The pathways of those French fields?
What present emotion
Claws its way out of the picture plane
And refuses to release you?
I wish I could see what you see,
But, when I watch you,
I want to see nothing else.
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