Grasping the Wind
I can feel you
slipping silently from me.
First from touch.
Then from sight.
Then from mind.
You used to exist,
not just around me,
but through me.
You felt what I felt.
You saw what I saw.
You thought what I thought.
Now,
you exist
somewhere I cannot reach.
I can only grasp you
as easily as
I can grasp the wind
within my fingertips.
The inside of my body is hollow;
abandoned by your spirit.
The shell of me sits waiting
day after day
hour by hour
minute for minute
for my breath
to resume
and let life begin
again.
