Three Random Things

I ache for that which I cannot have,
for beauty I cannot possess,
for love that is not mine.

Possession of objects
is a passing desire
no more solid than wind.

The substance of life
is that which burns
the aching spaces.

_________

I can see it in your face,
you are beginning to look
like your mother
at your age.

_________

We lost each other a long time ago.

________