I could write and say what I miss
But as I never have, it's empty words I guess

I could say what I feel and how I'm changed
But feel what? As we have never  met

I could recite loves labours lost or much adoo
Indeed it's nothing as not with you

Or pages of prose by those who wrote
Those whos classics masters taught

But all would seem incomplete
Because it seems..
We were never destined to meet

Like a story in third person read as though in first
That makes a ******'s feelings burst

Or Hemingways "Old man and the sea"
That's really more a testament to me

For leagues away and a different time
In spirit you could be mine

But at night when the day has laboured hard
Both alone
No arms entwined

Different worlds we roam each day
Circumstance that governs why

Long and hard have I wrestled now
With what if's when and how
Is there any point, I doubt