such few remain

i see in your watercolor sky

images of lonely childhood

the hermitage of youth, aloof:

a naive story, intentfully so.

your pencil-line hair is a challenge and mystery

to my seedy cynicism sown careless and material,

in which i wrap my frothy knowledge of the world.

what pain and hesitance begot you,

solemn slender soul unbound

by all around, and what's below

or deep within: what origins inspired

such careful, constant eyes

or taught this listening mouth?

well--i neither comprehend nor wish to change

your different heart, 

nor linger long at this cracked-open door;

your rare innocence, a beauty undiscovered,

shall remain unsoiled in pastel skies

merely remarked by we,

the dirt-bound passersby.

2/15/2012

i haven't written a poem in months.  i wrote this in response to people i met through a training class at work, who reminded me of the long-lost innocent-minded friends i had in college, freshman year, 2003.