Homecoming Moon, 6:15 pm

Didn't see you following me.
Now you stare, blearily,
through mauve chiffon cloud.

You look less, even sad.
I don't really think of you
as a person. But you must

feel irritated, all those bits
of grey cloud floating
in front of your almost-full face.

The air is  grey, fast blackening.
The more I  watch you, the more
I sense you beckoning -

detachment comes naturally
when there are no words.
Ah well, I'm about to start writing.