If I Were a Poet

Two alone, far from home,
hide their glances at each other,
arranging themselves to never cross.

Two find in their minds
that empty spaces float apart,
bringing together the distances.

Now in the storm the warm wind
presses on their memories,
until shattered, they fall away.

Then only one remains,
and out of the pain the child stands,
hardly aware, but fully a man.