Imagination for ReadWritePoem

Eyes

I moved my chair
into a coin of sunshine,
poured a glass
of merlot,
then settled in
for a little afternoon
reading delight.

I started losing
myself in someone
else’s life, flying
above the trees
and people
in the campground

when I felt
eyes
staring,
staring
at me.

No one passing by
on the road,
no sunbathers
at nearby campsites
but, still, those eyes
watching me.

Prickles on the back
of my neck.
Hair
standing at attention
on my arms.

I tried reading
again
but those glaring
eyes would not turn
away.

I glanced
at my own camper
and there
were the faces
of the pansies
I’d planted that morning,
bobbing
on thin necks,
frowning in the sun,
watching
my every move.