old poem revised

 (untitled)

When I see your eyes so large and sharp,
I hope like a kid for the surprise—
the scintillation coupled with
the firing of your smile,
turning the moment sterling like sudden ray
over an ocean’s morning mind—
though, so far you’re blithe to mine,
and perhaps I’m too old and deep.
Still, I’d love to tell you mountains climbed,
and as much revel in your interpretation.

Imaginings have yet to comprehend
the core of your beauty,
and ways fraught with wandering stop—
even a good movie or art exhibit
cannot command mind away.

Growing to know intimacy
would create wonder whether
life is meant for such pleasure;
I want to hear you whisper in my ear
so severely I feel like the second movement
to Beethoven’s seventh:
not lonely, though alone and longing
for you.