The Sightly Blind (edited)

I have always felt your gentle presence at my street,
Emerging from its corners as a dainty little child,
Singing merrily as if a nightingale found its freedom,
Dancing randomly like a butterfly under my moonlight,
Blind as I am, though I cannot keep my eyes off you,
Wearing a yellow coat over my blue well-ironed shirt,
Fitting well with my nineteen-year-old black jeans,
Tried to polish my pair of old worn out black boots,
Groomed my hair, cut my nails, and tidied my beard,
Grabbing my stick and shoving my hat onto the floor,
My meeting starts as I say: “hello there! Care to help?”
Soon afterwards she walks me to my other streets,
As she departs smiling I return it my way and enquire,
“Will you be there when the first falling snow appears?”


Monday, 08th of February 2010

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