Blind Lady

Her opaque lenses looked whitely at me

Too much oxygen as a baby

Had starved her of her sight

But her insight

Remained hardy and New York

Chicano.

She saw through this lancelot image

And showed me true

Idealism in working with me

Through the part of the story

Where I loved one and only one

And not the other two who

Stood before me too

They wanted a salve and got one

But it did not stop their onlooking eyes

From waking for the dawn hours ahead of them

And seeing.  I will be there when you call

But not when you answer.  Then I shall

Be a real wonderstuff

kinda wretch for all

To be sure of.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016

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