A pixie flitting,

suspected, never seen:

a shadow of a shape,

which to glimpse would be to tarnish,

to desecrate.

A nudge, a haze, a breath,

and my double-take defiles her.


She is free

in the mist of unawareness.

She shrivels in a spotlight or a gaze,

shy in all her glory,

scared off by expectation.

To search for her

is only a hindrance.


She visits me

but briefly.

Perhaps she prefers the company of others,

those less desperate for her graces?

I am a frantic host,

dying to know what drew her here,

and when she will come again.


How can I convince her

to pay another visit?

How can I make a prisoner

of a gentle guest?

With such frenzied hospitality,

she will never be at home

in the chambers of my heart.