You were sitting by that complicated mass of strings and
Ivory polished chess of white and black
The dominating length of it.
Lost in a world of the words on the page,
There is no one but you.
The surrounding mist,
The blinding fog,
The deep haze of thought,
And this is it.
You at one side, me at the other.
And I cannot see you anymore.
My feet are the roots that delve deep into the soil,
And if the world came crashing down,
I would remain embedded,
In that haze,
– K.M.L. Quinn