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Hiding Eyes
Maybe it creeps up
behind you, watching
ever watching
and the grasses sigh
as it passes through
the birds scream warnings
the glassy water becomes disturbed
maybe it creeps up
behind you, knowing,
ever knowing
and the leaves, it stirs
as it passes under
and maybe I see
a hill's crest
and maybe I see
the mountains'
tears
but it does creep up,
behind you,
not watching; knowing
but seeing to yourself
the hiding eyes.
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With the eerie silence and the moving grasses, I got this creepy sense that something was creeping up behind me. The poem is me reassuring myself that it is only myself who is hiding--creeping up, whatever.