Sliver-possible light,

Through narrow glimpses,

Keyhole-looking,

Baited breath-stealing–

Walker of tiptoe mysteries.

Traces in the dust,

Fathomed through pages,

Implored for more–

But left vacant at the gate.

A mouthful of yearning,

Eclipsed by walls–

Left agape at the possibilities,

Watching the light disappear.