Sunday, 7 August 2011
The Sunday Post
I'd heard of a stony look. Was that one
you turned on me? Was I to be petrified?
But it seemed to me as beautiful as ever
and I walked from the house whistling into a sunset.
I took the look home and became uneasy.
I couldn't see it as other than limpid and shining.
Are you water? Or diamonds? I prefer things shifting
and lucid, not locked in a hard design.
I mustn't look at you with wrong eyes,
inventing what I want to see. Turn to me now
and let me know if I'm a millionaire
of water, or a pauper of diamonds.
By Norman MacCaig.
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