The Blonde Quill

I see faces

In everything,

And everywhere I go.

Faces I’ve never seen before,

In a shadow,

The clouds,

The branches of a tree

That look like the profile

Of a man I’ve never met.

I see faces in the curves and sharp edges

Of the world around me,

And in my mind’s eye,

During the night,

Dreaming of people I’ve never truly known.