Notice Poem by Mark Williams

You do not.
Not looking into your eyes, knowing that.
The ripples in your life are so very small.
So infantile, a baby crawling but not shrieking.
Not to notice eyes crossing over the garden.
Like a funeral priest glimpsing eternity,
Busy to get to his next act of God,
Cannot possibly notice.

No, not some alley, or resort.
Just, eye lashes to fly my way.
Wanting. Not another wasted, chasing day.

Speaking, you hear another muted voice.
A busy cafe, strangers abound.
A foreign haven, loud music, strange drink.
Smell is just more neutrality.
In an already passive world.
Notice, the sigh,
Never looking into your eyes.

Desire to not be the only one with eyes.