The poem of a lonely guy

Here in my lonesome self
I seem to have found wealth.
Your face is too expressive;
The air I'm breathing, expensive.

Trends may come and go
And leave me feeling low,
But when I listen to your face
I tend to hear my child's nest.

I just can't keep the pace
With this lonesome race.
You're the mystery I chase...
To be found one of these days.