"A flock of birds lifts up"
A flock of birds lifts up
in the distance--
in the distance.
Your face as it was and not as it was.
You standing before me
with your eyes already behind me.
What happens to longing when it is gone?
Is it replaced with loss?
Or with indifference?
Maybe to you I am like that flock of birds
That is shocked into sudden flight--
A blur of movement that briefly colors the sky
before it is gone again.