Conscience, My Friend
I can feel your eyes on me
As I walk these rooms alone.
In the silence that prevails
You yet do speak to me.
As the fading grayness of the dawn
Lights my multicolored room
So you fill me with the world
And I am of you.
Late in my hours and weary too
I sometimes sigh for other afternoons
With hot glass windows lifted
And curtains tossed tenderly by breezes.
They are near, those afternoons,
Seeming so far.
I find, with autumn's slow proceeding
That I can miss that hot glass.
And the breeze that crisply wakes me now
Is different, deeper, too, somehow.
Strange the way you come and go to come again.
The way you watch me, makes me glad.
Even away, you add to what I am, to what I see.
Even away, you help me still to be.