The mortals twiddle their thumbs, they
entertain fickle thoughts.  Eyes
are fixed to electronics as they wait
for the bus stop,
for a promotion,
for me to pass them by.

In their last season, I'm finally observed.
For the first Time, we mingle
with intent. We sit
watching grandchildren and
drinking coffee--slowing
down. A still moment; and then without fail
the mortal will pack his trunk
and journey to a place
that I cannot travel.

I am left, once again, to awaken the eyes
of the young. Investing
nudges and pushes, waging war against the clock--
All so that at life's end we might
if only for a brief moment,
be still, and sip joe.

A striped field on the screen.
Late Sunday afternoon--
preaching your adored game.
The tackles, the tight end, the safety,
the touchdowns, the fumbles and field goals.
All your precious babble
into my ear--then gone.
Burly-beef-boys charging
are not in any way my motive.
Your urgent concern to inform of
the game I'll never know.
Terminology spat,
your message lost in clouds.
My eyes are attentively listening,
but only to your charming presence.

I would sit in front of a computer screen for hours,
just to see your blurred face,
and here the whispers of your words.

I would stay up til' 2am,
to call and tell you Happy Birthday,
so you could wake up to the sound of my voice.

I would learn to play your favorite song,
and sing it while I play,
on an instrument I've never touched.

I would reminiss in the few, but precious,
romantic moments we once had,
so many months ago.

I would make up bedtime stories,
of princesses, knights, and Nyan Cats,
to give you sweet dreams at night.

For you, I would do anything.

No matter how far away, I think about you every day.
No matter what I say, your name will always appear.
No matter how long it takes,
for us to meet again,
I will be there.