From Claire de Lune

Gentle raindrops fall from burbling clouds.
Soft wind carry her name, Claire, Claire.
Breezes breathy as soft as Chiffon.
No face, no form, just a name
She is love, she is heart, amour
In all of us though intangible
Frustrating and intractable.
Claire drags us in, pulls us apart,
With love and desire we are bound
From the first moments of birth,
Until the day we are mourned,
interred in memory.