Silent Lover

Sometimes I watch her.

I steal those glances here and there.
Like a bird turning its head
this way and that

Before taking a seed, being ever
self-conscious to its fate or hunger or necessity.


I’m ever watchful
ready to evaporate into nothingness
if our opposing eyes should ever chance to meet.


I am a thief of reflections holding each as a precious memory
but what am I to her?
Just a shadow on a dark wall,
or a wave breaking against the sand
then suddenly disappearing as if I was never there.


But for one brief moment

she turned and smiled like a
cat,

to my canary.