You are recurring,
effervescent,
dust on light streams.

I am elsewhere,
static, immobile,
a 30ft depression
in damaged concrete -

though still
we unfurl together,
lean towards sunlight
like Japonica’s  in bloom;
you are the coloured iris
that enfolds my empty pupil,

you are
my subtle hue,
I wish to paint you
in a surreal saturation,

a sincerity that breathes in between our authenticity.

Before we leave to write essays on realism,
come meander with me
into the depths of profundity.