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The Watcher

The Watcher


I wait, watching, patiently.
I look, seeing only the barest of colors.
Then, ever so carefully, emerges
A hint of hue.
I watch, much more closely now
Knowing that soon it all will come to life.
But then, sudden distraction,
And my eyes are torn away.
And it's all over.  Just like that.
A blink of an eye.
A sudden explosion is now the vision,
No longer bare and dead but
Vivacious and full of color.
My breath escapes me.
I have missed it again.

J. Gafeller  March 1997


jengaf@netins.net


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