‘This is Mister Blake, my dear,
he sees visions..’
and he looked down at me, this man
who saw, what did that mean,
saw visions? His eyes were just so blue,
so blue, that they were limitless
and I flew up and into them
like a sky and wings
and the voices sang forever
as if there were no repetition
and angels with blue eyes
looked at me out of everywhere
seeing every thing
and Mister Blake the poet raised his hat to me,
smiled the gift of always,
and walked on his way
down the Strand
as if one and all things
had never parted company.
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/meeting-mister-blake-the-poet-in-the-strand/
