Autumn Saturday

All I did was look for you-
and having seen, desire.

I strained to see you from afar-
my dreamy-eyed woman.
At last you simply passed me by,
the spirit in me failed,
and so I made a point to see you close,
hoping you would want to see me, too.
Did you?

From that point on until this time
late into the evening hours,
I've only thought of you,
wishing we had been together at that place
and not so far apart
that all we did was glance.

You laughed, a childish laugh
of wonder and delight
(it seemed to me)
when I arrived,
as if you could not contain the joy
of my proximity.
Or was this just my imagination?

I could not stay, not then-
not for a minute more-
yet, how I longed to stay a lifetime.
For you are such a jewel to me,
and I have not the means to let you go.

In truth, I see a Saturday,
just like today, a year from now,
then two, and on again to four,
until at last the years add up more and more
when I am still inclinded to look for you,
and having seen, desire.

by Richard Elam

Other poems of ELAM (3)

Comments (1)

Very good. I know what you mean...you know it's more but you don't dare say it. I like this poem.