By CiCi
(Recalling a young couple I once saw together on a foggy morning.)
We are two wisps of gossamer smoke
waltzing unaware through a blinded world.
We think we know it all right now.
Speaking boldly in casual tones
re-echoed by shapeless forms.
We are two wisps of gossamer smoke.
A thoughtless existence of just being
Feeling, dreaming, time on time, in time
We see but vaguely as through a screen
yet our vision feels unobscured.
We are but two wisps of gossamer smoke.
We are but in a thought, what we are.
Not alike, not different,
and not at all quite real.
We are unsure, we are mere children,
ignorant as to what we should do.
Awkward kisses and breathless whispers
thankfully unseen, thankfully unheard.
Glad to be two wisps of gossamer smoke.
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