Where?

Where do I keep you?

Now that all I can sense is your touch in the woods.

Your persistent tragedies

Continuing to flow through me,

All of my cries are where you intrude.

Where will I get the absence of you?

For,

In the tulip fields,

In the orange fall of leaves,

In the future of my dreams,

In the sores of distant tunes,

All I can smell is you.

No, wind,

Please don't bestow the sighs you've gathered

From the fracture of my notions,

From the New York rain,

From the Paris pain,

From the Egyptian plains,

Although I know, the purest sighs

Are the ornaments of heaven,

The blessed tears, as much divine,

I just don't need them here tonight

On these procrastinating eyelids of mine.

The writer is a freshman at the University of Toronto.