Gone from view, vacant stares through empty glass
where boxed orchids now hold your station
by the rise of not enough occasion
and too many glances past.
I once held your gaze through the reflected glare,
the sun obscuring encircled simmering eyes
unrelenting in the search, seeking surmise
somehow, and now your portrait still
replaced ironically in nature’s pride
perched on sills
peering inside
out where you refused to shine.
In the gaze of the other 