I am the wind howling in the eaves
pacing the trails of your dragging knees
I watch as you mourn, gaze as

your darkened eyes hollow out

little by little, day by day
You do not see me and I, not you
I gather the clues you leave behind
I piece them together in my mind
with the string unraveled from your guise
But when I find you, when I see you
I do not expect your forlorn figure, lined

in moonlight, crumpled between

cobblestone corners
I acknowledge you will have faded
your drawling footsteps will have ended there
And I may whistle around the spot you have been
but I will not see you; you have not lived