We have five senses:
Sound
Sight
Smell
Taste
Touch
The most deceptive is sight. This is my story!
My Eyes Have Failed Me
It happened over a period of time.
I cannot be sure how much time
or what other factors came into existence
in a world gone out of control
suddenly I cannot believe my eyes anymore.
Somewhere along the line of time
my eyes have failed me.
Once I thought I saw things so clearly
I could distinguish many things
with my eyes.
The colors of the seasons.
The roses in a yard.
The horse in the pasture.
Then suddenly I began to question
what my eyes were telling me.
It happened one day in summer.
The sun was shining brightly.
I saw her standing upon a bridge
it was crystal clear.
She looked at me and I saw
the trace of a smile.
She was wearing faded torn jeans
a shirt that said, “Fear the Fall,”
a solitary yellow rose in her hand.
In the blink of an eye she
Stood on top of the bridge.
A second blink and she let herself go
free falling.
I gasped for breath,
and in the blink of an eye
I saw her walking away.
My eyes have failed me.
That was only the beginning.
I remember standing by the railroad tracks.
Listening for the train.
I could trust my ears.
Hearing the sound of metal against metal.
The train roaring down the track.
I could smell the creosote from the ties.
I looked up and saw her once again.
I recognized her torn jeans.
The trace of a smile.
Her shirt said, “Summertime Blues.”
She was standing on the tracks.
I heard the whistle of the train,
coming fast as she stood there
In the center of the tracks.
Silently looking at me.
A yellow rose in her cowboy hat.
The fragrance filled my senses.
The overpowering sound of the train near.
She did not move or flinch,
As the train hit her full speed.
I gasped for air feeling my pulse racing.
In the blink of an eye the train had passed.
I blinked again and saw her walking away.
My eyes have failed me.
Going back in time:
I met her on a summer's day in Paris.
She was walking out of the Cathedral of Notre Dame,
looking out of place in torn jeans.
a gold windbreaker,
a yellow rose in her cowboy hat,
cowboy boots
and long dark hair,
Passed her shoulders.
Sunglasses covered her eyes.
Something told me that
I had to meet her,
being alone in this city,
feeling lost.
I knew immediately she was from the states.
So I approached her,
and said "Bonjour,"
she answered with a strong "Hello."
We then started walking together.
The silence between us
was broken as she said,
"Let's stop here" and we entered
a small sidewalk cafe.
"What brings you to Paris? "
I said. "Following my dreams" was her answer.
"And you?" "Lost relatives" I said.
"Sometimes relatives are better lost,
you better be careful," she said.
She was from Kentucky.
The Blue Grass State.
Her family focused on breeding race horses.
Speed was in her veins.
She said, "I was the fastest girl
on the track team.
Owned a Porsche 911.
Speed is in everything I do
If you are moving slow,
I will pass you by, hesitation
is not a part of me."
"Beware my nature, I am a Ram.
I am full of life, high energy,
looking for a challenge, and
living my dreams," she said.
"What are your dreams?" I replied.
"You are living in one right now,'" she said.
"You are the Crab a good listener,
someone who is not afraid of alternative
directions. That is what I need. I knew the moment
I walked out of the Cathedral that you would be there," she replied.
"I never considered looking for lost relatives,
although some of mine will remain lost forever" she said.
"I want to find out something about my past.
Hoping to find information from lost relatives." I replied.
"There must be something in your past that haunts you,
but beware the future can haunt you too." she spoke softly,
"the past, the present, and the future can occur
in the blink of an eye, and your eyes cannot be trusted."
I was not sure of my next move.
I sat there in silence unable to
comprehend my situation.
I lost track of time.
I remember the intense look in her eyes.
The sweet smell of a yellow rose.
A cowboy hat on the bed post.
Cowboy boots in the corner of the room.
Torn jeans on the back of a chair.
The touch of her hand,
taste of her lips,
silkiness of her skin,
sound of her heartbeat,'
and the dim light reflecting her silhouette.
It is all a haze in my memory.
She said, "Blink and I may be gone so
don't believe your eyes
I may haunt you, after all,
your lost relatives were in my dreams ."
I thought about my lost relatives.
I thought about her dreams.
I rubbed my eyes trying to focus.
I hesitated before I said good-bye.
She was gone, and now I wonder how much of myself
I left at that sidewalk cafe in Paris?