I see her face in the trees,

I hear her voice in the breeze,

her laugh rings in my ears, carried through an empty sky

I catch a glimpse of her eyes,

the lazy afternoon sun

—but just a hazy peek

before sleeping behind the skyrise

I wished I were right

but fantasy can only last so long

for though my head and heart have been bound

alike, tethered to her omnipresent,

undefined figure,

what she thinks,

what she felt,

I may very well never know.

“and so we beat on,

boats against the current,”

laments my own heart,

itself beating out

a simple joy in living,

a sinful joy of loving.