A metaphor I think works
I nearly lost my sight, and now it's clear.
The lines and blurs are gone. Laser and knife
lens changed for plastic. Never in my life
had I seen birds in trees. There is a fear
that I had to this moment, cut away
to clarity. Your head touches my skin
a little pressure. You lean further in
no random touch. It's not the words you say
a little mocking, softly, but the trust
more than soft hair on bare arm as you lean.
Catch breath a little. This could always mean
less than I think or hope, but hope I must.
You tease the fear away. I am not wrong.
I see as well as hear sharp joyous song.