Fleeting Poem by aida melesse

As to heed from behind the wall
The calls of birds in their hidden bed,

As to catch a glimpse of light
piercing through the cloud.
A sight of a passing wind
A running wave,
A rolling stone
From a mountain top
That doesn't wait.

My anxious eyes
try to hold you,
my curious hands
to refine you,
Rubbing you
as if you are a magic lamp.

Which you might be,
The maker
of fleeting glances,
Of trails of bread crumbs.
Waiting to be picked up
By the hungry ones.
By the time my mind
has eaten its way..
I have paused.
my feet at your gate
looking at your face
for A moment...