Once Intimate

Is it safe to interrupt you from looking 

into arrangements of letters on the page?

Lost limber passages like silk on skin.

Thin flat pebbles that skid across lake face.

The room exposing the body of water 

deflects the solos' imagined wince.

The lake now risen with snow melt depth.

Please let’s not name it mirror for the moon.

Might you purchase a new pair of glasses

gray-blue to view the passage of bookworm time?