In crowded places I feel like a ghost

In crowded places, I feel like a ghost,

a blur in the hustle, drowning in sound.

Faces drift past, and I long to be lost,

invisible threads where no one looks around.

A swirling breeze calls, a gentle retreat,

leaves scatter like dreams tossed carelessly wide.

I yearn for the silence, the softest of seats,

to slip from existence, not chosen, but tried.

Yet longing still lingers, not rooted in pain,

nor driven by darkness, but a sweet, aching wish.

To blend with the ether, to soften the rain,

while tethered to light in an ephemeral swish.