Silver sky in my morning
Ball of fire through the clouds
You cast long shadows on my paper
The pencils chrome reflects into a circle
Of varying circumference and depth of field
The paper is not yet penetrated by your light
Or my words; your cloud covered stillness
Is, as someone said yesterday, of heroin
A sheet, a bed cover, a safety or a comfort
Is that so for you, as now you disappear
Drawn down, hidden by our looking
Doubtful as to your persona
Thought lost in your own possession
Of the place we cannot reach or touch
