Hide And Seek (Poetry)

I see with the inner eye
what isn’t there
define the outline
colour in
with all those inbetween shades
the language paintbox lacks
for imagination.

The more I stare
the more believable she becomes
in all her now-you-see-me-
now-you-don’t
playful magic trembling
on perception’s very edge
so eye-blink sensitive.

I glimpsed the woman
in the tree
and for that second
she saw me
before she hid again — absorbed
like breath drawn in
to leaf and branch
limb matched to nubile limb.

I still see her there —
her face her hands and hair
and fascinated join the endless game —
just keep on looking
                                looking...