I’m the whistling wind that blows past your cheek;
The white, silent ghost, that makes your doors creak.
I’m the man on the moon, the surveyor of all -
The beggar, the tramp that you just can’t recall.
I’m the thought in your mind, the word on your page
Who’s not classed by race, or by sex or by age.
I’m the silent observer, the one you don’t see.
I’m looking at you, but you’ll never see me.
Copyright on all my poems
* Published by AMS Educational (The Anthology) in 2010.