Thursday, June 21, 2012

What the Eye Can't see

Upon a trail, hot am I; like a hound
Have I picked up the scent, and am now bound
For what I deemed to be some stranger full,
An unknown entity, uncanny soul.
Yet when I came to the end of the trail
All certain that I had caught my fare, prize,
I found that I had made an epic fail,
That my trusty nose had deceived mine eyes.
Yet how does the red in a rose give sight
Except by expelling such colored light?
So too did my nose expel all else seen,
For it focused upon what once has been.
A lady stood before I had known,
With superfluous grace she had not shown.

                What the Eye Can't see, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012

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