Each sheet rises in sequence to reveal the pathway.
To reveal you. Standing there.
You. Watching me.
And the sheets hide you again as they fall
to hang without movement.
And then begin to unfurl and rise
as yet another gust pushes the white cotton out
and you are once again exposed.
You are standing watching me with that serious look.
Your eyes expressionless.
Studying me. And once more the whiteness
falls to cover where you are standing.
There is no movement now.
Just the brilliant whiteness falling on you like a curtain.
(Excerpt form the long poem “White Sheets”)