Leaving

I am the nameless face;

seen, not heard,

speculated, but not seen.

I am a presence felt,

not acknowledged.

I am the ghost of neglect, and

the representative of the

neglected.

When I am gone-

if I am not already

in the mind of the reader-

When I am gone,

something will be left.

A tiny hole

the size of a grain of sand;

the size of a dream

or a nightmare

that is there and is soon

forgotten.

Realized, but not respected.

I am the shadow under your feet-

there, but not.

The whisper in your ear,

ignored.

The face that is missed,

and yet, not missed

at all.