Look at me, and I am no more

 

 

Look at me,
and I am no more —
only a breath on glass,
a shape the dawn erases.

 

Between me and the world
a slow cloud drifts,
a shadow without body,
a mirror that will not return.

 

Time brushed me
like a hand without fingers,
and I trembled —
not with love, but with wind.

 

No one knows where it ends,
the light bending over silence.
Perhaps in your gaze,
perhaps in the falling water
that leaves no mark.

 

So I remain:
an echo hanging between two skies,
neither voice nor absence —
only the passing of a name
through air that forgets.

(D. R.)