I often see your face in the sky
looking down at me , and my heart jumps..
Then it unravels and I want to cry
for it is just a cloud turning into white lumps.
That woman who took you is at my window.
Her hair is on end, looking wild,
but then it become bare branches that blow and I feel lost and lonely as a motherless child.
I see you standing, feel you stare..
Yet you turn into a piece of dead wood..
You are not to be seen out there
where once in embrace we stood.
These shapes and forms are just illusions
casting sad sorrow, cruel confusions..