In Verse: Still Life

Some things do not take kindly to photographs.
They are entirely too un-still, to be stilled
on film, or in code of ones and zeros.
Take the flight of swallows:
in one click, capricious turns and banks
are reduced to a flash
of feathers, wings and forked tail in blue sky.
You're like that, I think.
One might, perhaps, capture the laughter
about the crinkles of your eyes,
but it is far easier to catch the warmth of sun glint on rivers
than that something in those precious eyes
that hints at knowing secrets to life itself.