This morning, with the windows open
and the sheer curtains rippling in the breeze,
I caught a glimpse of you in bed—laying
naked in the crease of where I had
been sleeping. And, this afternoon,
under a cloudless sky, I saw you curled-up
in the window blowing smoke into a sunbeam.
But, it wasn’t until this evening—after the sun
had dipped behind the Magnolia tree—that
I saw your shadow dance across the ceiling
as though you might be real.