While You Are Away

I have found my feet

tripping auto to the usual

places where I sometimes see you -

the gate of the forest; deserted beach;



the foot of Breathless Hill, where I've puffed

my way to the top and surveyed

the surrounding void, until ungrounded

I have air-stepped; lifted till I rose 



to fingertip the clouds, from where

I've somersaulted through the bright 

and breeze to try to dull the stab

I often feel at times I look around 



and find you are not there. Like, take

this morning in the pink veiled dawn -

thought I caught you fleeting through

the distant mist, but just before I ran 



to catch you up, you faded from existence. 

And eventually as new, the blue bled in

I, reluctant to fall back down to earth draped 

upon a stray and wanton cloud to dream of life 



without a care, as I tend to do

whenever you're not there 

to bring me back again to safety 

of the solid ground you lay before me.



What else can I say?

I'm lost while you're away.