somewhere i have never travelled,­gladly beyond - E. E. Cummings

somewhere i have never traveled, 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 color 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