Picture of you

when it was morning I mourn for your absence,
when it was noon, I remember
the night I wept alone,
alone and longing...
to have your images among the chained thrills.
I see your images in the air, hanging
as of my hands are running over sand
and they make your faces and dust them off the next moment.
my pictures of you which I make are
not as perfect as you are.
and you know and i know
this is what keep asking me to
make a perfect picture of you.