And I leave my feet

behind

shaded pools of turquoise 

water in groves more green

than green. I don’t see it,

but I try.

Under seas of the brutalest

navy shifted ever by

the winds of sneezing

gods. I look for it

and find only fish.

Deserts of grayish sand

seem empty if naught

for all that is there.

It’s hot I don’t search

long. Still no. 

Perhaps I shall scour 

the world, from elbowed

mountains, to veiny marsh-

land. But I don’t think 

I’ll find it.

Wherever you stole

my heart away too,

I think I’m better off here,

writing with 

you.