Sonnet for the Eyes That Look Away

Your eyes meet mine, then choose the windowpane, as if the rain has said what I could not. I know affection cannot be a chain, or longing make a promise from a thought. The room is kind; it gives us other views: a cup, a clock, the traffic turning red. I will not make your silence mean you choose the future I rehearsed inside my head. Still, light collects along your lower lid, and every ordinary color stays. I love you. That is true. It does not bid you love me back or reorganize your days. Your eyes return. We speak of getting home. I keep my heart, and let your answer roam.