A Poem For All Time

somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond
By E.E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

My friend Bill and I watched Woody Allen's Hannah and Her Sisters the other day. In the film, Michael Caine's character has a crush on his wife's sister and orchestrates running into her on the street one morning. They duck into a bookstore where he buys a book of E.E. Cummings' poetry for her as a gift. He tells her that one of the poems makes him think of her. "Page 112!" he reminds her, as he helps her into her taxi cab. That evening, she reads the poem and her feelings grow for him too. 

To see the poem in action, click here and start at 4:18.