Sight For The Eyes Poem by gershon hepner

Life’s a sight
for the eyes
that surmise
its delight.
So hypnotic
its spell,
and its smell
quite erotic,
with a taste
and a flavor
you savor
in haste,
evanescent
as past
that can’t last
to the present.
For its sounds
have a call
that can fall
out of bounds,
with a touch
that you feel
is unreal
when you clutch,
then let go.
For the spell
must dispel,
as you know,
like the sound
that is blurred
as a word
that’s profound,
or the odor
that’s stale
as a pail
of flat soda,
or the sight
you don’t heed,
guaranteed
no delight.