we speak. Our lives are full and spent apart.
Distance means every word dropped in my heart
falls heavy with significance. Absurd
to let a simple cross or smiling face
feel like caresses. Tell me that you blush
reading my poems, there's a fever rush
that thrills my bones. These things cannot replace
watching you breathe, watching you sit and draw,
face serious as if I were not there
Or twist a finger in a curl of hair
or tease a kitten, finger batting paw.
We chat. You read my verse. Small things and yet
it is enough. We take what we can get.