I Touch Your Eyes

I touch your eyes with mine;
from the day you loved me,
... I make you mine,
remake myself, this heart etched new.

You cannot quite be explained,
I thought I could hold you fast;
but the moment water strikes,
... the eyes won't open anymore.
Then I understood how foolish I had been.

The mouth speaks but the heart says nothing,
so I write poems, lose my sorrow in their rhythm.
Yet mere meter matched does not a poem make...
Perhaps because I am grieving, I sometimes
call myself a poet.