A mere memory, an essence
And nothing more, so
That you wouldn’t know
The pain.
Whisper the words to the wind,
You would; perhaps chagrined.
An aura, ethereal I’d choose
To be. Never too close
To attain.
No arms you could hold,
No sight to behold.
A mystery, a floating mist,
No lips to kiss
Or complain.
Inscrutable, a dream
Perhaps, if that would deem
It possible to evade
You. And in shade
Remain.
A voice without a face, if only
I could be to you. So closely
Wouldn’t scrutinise each word
And I’ll be a free bird
Again.

