Yes before my window many times
I’ve seen you pass, white linen at your cheek.
And I have stood there watching, did not speak
Nor did you turn. So slow the long month climbs,
So adamant yet average through the year.
Yes there again I see you disappear,
Your silence spreads a tumult through my week.

No brightness goes as you move by and yet
Something is taken from me when you pass –
More than a face that spurns the looking-glass,
More than a sky storms shift before it’s set.
There is some stillness in your face I need,
Some love to which your patience seems to lead;
Your coming leaves me somehow in your debt

Although my simply watching was decreed.