I sit.
I sigh.
I watch the faces,
None the one I wish to see.
My eye erases
The scene; the places
Phase and swirl.
I'm where I want to be.
Blue air.
I fly,
But far and high
Where I might die . . .
All I have to do is blink
And leave the air.
The face is not there,
So now I sink
In the deep, dark drink.
I dredge the damp and dusk
If I might have lost that face,
Or myself.
I drown.
I dream.
And then, I wake.
I am alive again,
Alone and looking on
Throughout the scene to seek
The face I’ll never see
In reality.
In reality,
I’ll still try to see
The face
In places where I want to be.