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.