watching the storm

Warm, misty mornings; tendrils of mystery and beauty, remind me that, like the disolving wisps, we are nothing more than a dew drop on a morning leaf -
tenuous in our grip and forever fleeting.

The spaces between know all the truths and illusions. 
These mockeries of a smile and moments of panic.

I still look at your photo, in these moments of missing you; your smile will always make my heart ache.

It is easier, to walk among these paint by number portraits, so prescribed and presented,
than stand with the shadows.
All to fragile though the desires we draw, the wishes we write -
and easily lost with a callous wind.

I fear the hurricane and am powerless against landfall;
finding cold comfort in the embrace of an ocean. 

May the whales give grace, and the sharks have pity.