Subtle Query Poem by James Walter Orr

I see the fruit of a subtle hint and
I think a dear friend with the sharpest eye
has discovered something she has not told,
that she found on a site, just passing by.

My mind can be one of the densest kind,
and my poor retention comes back to taunt,
for the things that slide from its outer shell,
can return at times, like a ghost, to haunt.

Things of the most terrible magnitude,
slide off of my skin like a summer rain.
The dropp scarcely able to wet one hair,
rolls over my mind like an old steam train.

The country that lies near the lowest point
of the global orb that we call our earth,
has captured and caged the wandering soul
that has prowled the earth since her treasured birth.

That written to be an attempt to speak
to a query couched in that subtle tint,
of politeness that covers tries to seek,
what was not forthcoming from just a hint,

that more-so captures the soul than the eye,
and leaves a mute speaker without a word:
Too clumsy to speak in a clearer tone,
but with some emotion that must be heard.