Ode To Boy

When he moves

I watch him from behind

He turns and laughter

flickers in his eyes

Intent and direct when he speaks

I watch his lips

When he drives

I love to watch his hands

white and smooth

almost feminine

almost american

I have to watch him

In his face

age descends on youth

Exaggeration on the truth

He caught me looking then

but soon his eyes forgot

and everything he seems to do

Reflects just another

shade of blue

I saw her searching into you

and ached a while

I watch his lips

carress the glass

His fingers stroke

the stem and pass

To lift a cigarette at last

he dries his eyes

From a shadow by the stair

I watch as he weeps unaware

that I'm in awe of his despair