It feels plausible,
Like I'm living a play,
On the stage across from hers.
Sometimes between shows I sing,
Not very well,
But because it feels right.
And she sings in reply,
And we go back and forth.
More often I play small songs,
More pieces of songs really,
And if she knows them she'll sing as I strum.
We trade paper airplanes,
Secretly holding notes.
Talk quietly across the room,
Over the heads of an unknowing audience.
It feels strange to have a friend so far away.
It shows that there are friendly places in the world,
Though few and far between.