I search for You.
Outside of my front window i peer.
Onto dank sidewalks and heavy pavement,
Wet leaves pasted to the ground; orange and red and brown,
Shadowy tree limbs hang from a sleepy trunk,
A grave sky lays above, dull and insipid.
No one is outside.
Neither are You.
I search for You.
Around my quiet house i wander.
Into musty closets and forgotten attics,
Dirty clothes decorate a vacant room; sweaters and socks and shoes,
Lonely books poke out and stare from a corner,
A heavy ceiling pulls me in, to reality and now.
No one knows.
Neither do You.
I search for You.
Inside a stranger i seek.
Under faded gold strands and yellow cotton folds,
Perfect creases on chapped lips; mute and lonely and bare,
Weighty limbs fall toward anxious hands,
A heart beats and blood flows.
No one else.
Not even You.
I stand alone.
A dreamer.
A writer.
An artist.
A memory.
I stand alone.
And search for you.
