might as well

every absence
is a loneliness

every loneliness
an idea
of forever

and people
all around
people
everywhere
people

nothing there

the sun shines down
Sol
up in the sky
by himself

watching the moon
watching the stars
watching earth

looking down at me

too bright
I don’t see him
only the yellow-white
of his glare

too bright
I wonder
if any watcher ever sees
what’s there

close enough to warm
too far away
to touch
he might as well
be here


© Frank Prem, 2017

June 2017 Poem #19: carnevale

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