'Felicta...Angie...Felicta! '

I smile
to see the sound

of my words
translated into breath

the ghost of the sound
dancing before me

on the cold night air
pierced with stars

watch as my words
travel halfway across the world

translated into
the little breeze

that disturbs
those loose strands of hair

that you absentmindedly
put back in place

& smile
& wonder

...why?

'Felicta...Angie...Felicta! '

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/midnight-at-st-marks-for-angie/