You, who with your curious mind <br />and knowing sense, <br />watch me as if you watch still water, <br />wondering if my calm were some pretence, <br />not seeing the troubled depths, <br />the swift dark currents of my turbulence. <br /> <br />And yet a day can stretch its calm <br />wide open like water lilies, <br />and an hour or two be shared at ease. <br />My hands tell you nothing my eyes <br />do not know, and if at times we disagree <br />we can laugh, because human touch never lies. <br /> <br />You, who tell me with a smile <br />of your vulnerability, <br />catch me watching the play of sunlight <br />on waters that flow too fast, your alacrity <br />no easy match for silent deeps, <br />but something of what you are flows into me. <br /> <br />And if, I thought, we'd not divide <br />this living hour with compromise, <br />withhold a portion of our solitude, <br />perhaps we'd find in each other, if we're wise, <br />a moving stillness that yet moves to find <br />in a paradox of waters a truth we'd recognize.<br /><br />David Beatty<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-water-moving-water/
