(un)Seen

Is it wrong that I
Would prefer to just observe?
From far off,
Fingers pressed against glass as
Lightning and fireworks flash over
Distant city lights,
Silent over water.

Is it wrong I would rather
See the crowds from above,
To see, not be seen,
To know, not be known,
Except by a special few?

My dad wipes crowds from his pictures
Lets the light bathe the sensor, until
They vanish, ghosts,
And leave the graceful columns,
Verdant gardens, ancient streets,
Alone—unto themselves.

(Except in his portraits—
Smoke and smile and quirk of the lips,
Focus on faces and light in the eyes—
Those capture the soul.)

If only I could walk alone,
Just sometimes,
Rest in the space
Between the beats of light.

You could walk with me there,
In the breath between steps,
Between work and obligations.
We could be alone together,
Enjoy the solitude,
And watch the busy, frantic world go by
Beneath billowing clouds lined with pink.