Ephemeral Eyes, Noah Jacobson

it’s half past ten, I hear a sound

the coffee drinkers mill around

I start to write my poetry

while conversations do abound

and yet as morning turns to noon

I’ll have to leave this comfort soon

another day of work and stress

on this academic commune

another reading, papers too

but all I think about is you

til next time I see your bright eyes

nothing compares to that sweet view

I must depart, for noon is nigh

I hope you know the who and why

this poem is meant just for you

til next we meet, my love, goodbye