Being Honest Poem by James McLain

You look at him there
and turn away when he looks.
What he sees,
is what you intended to show.
And this from you it was seen.
It is his leafy path.
Sewn together never pulled apart.
Never the rocket fuel.
Though how I wish that it were.
Cold not on fire like this when it is.
I am to forward with my brown eyes.
And those blue eyes, like the sky
are never to looking forward, enough.
Until he sees past the clouds.
Was heaven so lightly veiled.
Until the first day that I came,
I these feeling I never knew.