The Color of Water
Eyes the color of water. The tree I cut down
returns: fallen leaves, smoke, the missing
shade, memory come to reflect
emotion. Once the blue grosbeak
hid in its branches, calling but refusing
to appear, the voice our only consolation.
Now rain streaks the empty space.
Those things we touch often bruise,
but to leave them untouched may harm us
even more. Two days ago the sky cleared.
Changes, how often we see them for what
they are not. An essential falsity. Those eyes.
Words, ever-changing. Shadows of lovers
whose bodies merge but never touch.
This first appeared on the blog in March 2015.
O at the Edges 
I particularly like the following lines. They spoke to me somehow.
“Those things we touch often bruise,
but to leave them untouched may harm us
even more.”
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I was much younger when I wrote the poem, but the lines still work for me. 🙂
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Another intrigue poem … water essentially colorless except for what it carries and what our eyes perceive. Relationships a bit more complex, yet also more perception than we’re inclined to acknowledge; and very fluid!
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Relationships — oh, so fluid, and sometimes barely visible.
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That last line – so powerful and memorable!
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Thanks, Lynne! Those words rang true for decades…
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