Each letter i scribe
comes straight from my mind
not knowing where to start:
is ill-spoken words from my heart
how can my heart & mind be so indifferent
all this time, could it be misspent?
i spend these days with your image
in my eyes
much more than ever present behemoth
skies
all i want to do is hold your hand
i don't know if i can walk all that
way it's getting hard to stand.
i'll get rid of this invisible hinder
and perhaps feel you between
my fingers.

with fingers laced then we'd descry
every celestial body in
that overlooked sky;
The thing i fear is when we've
counted every star and named
every moon, tasted every cloud,
this day might come too soon.