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
