In Sight

How often do we observe things as they are?
When we can see with some clarity
The truth of a matter
No matter how far

I saw a tree, its leaves were green
I talked to a blond girl, but her roots remained unseen
These shone in the sun, but had earth underneath
And below that some dirt that lurks inside grief

Even writing these words
A shadow on your face
Some smoke round your hair
I can’t touch; we don’t embrace
But I know,
So I smirk (as do you)
But I know it’s not true
Yet I see that you are there

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