I’m pretty sure I’m here
(or so I think),
but who or where are you?

Stuffed as I am
in my elastic envelope,
it’s hard enough to find myself
let alone discover you.

Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
May I press your hand?

Stay please for a while;
let me a sound you a tune
on my flute.

© 2018 by Robert Charles Howard