One

.
Clouds,
sail across pail blue ceiling
before losing interest, 
lost somewhere
over the silence we share,
as like mistletoe held high, 
a festive distraction, 
when you're not with the one. 

I've gone away inside, 
chasing clouds; 
picking forget me not blue;
And,
in that moment's flicker, 
maybe we already are as one
in the wilderness.