Focused on your texture, a fine resolution,
I lose sight of your entirety.
Viewing a small picture, a miniature illusion,
I miss all the strokes of your scenery.
Concentrated on this shadow, a lovely mingling of grey,
I do not perceive your contrasting tones.
Content with this one crescendo, a bright and golden ray,
I notice not that I am alone.
Hidden in the shade, a thin translucent curtain,
I choose to see what I wish only.
Making a trade, a fool’s desperate bargain,
I deceive myself quiet easily.