I am writing to you from a
park bench in Amsterdam
there is a gentle breeze
of rest-fullness
the cherry trees are in
full bloom
I look for you
in every pretty face
I look for you in the
mannerisms of strangers
I look for you in the
architecture of amazement
I think of you
between the sidewalk
and every step
I hold you in my mind
like a memory of
something precious
I almost found you as the
sun set the sky on fire
in Barcelona
but you know
almost is never sweet
I will find you
before I unveil this
madness of my wandering
I miss you
even when I sleep …
Clay.M