Dearest Isabella,

It pains me to think of you for you are not within arms reach.
In fact you are millions upon millions of reaches away,
And that realization hurts the same every time I come to it.
Yet I still find my thoughts to be of you, why is that?

Perhaps I simply do not know better than to give in,
Even if what brings me joy brings twice as much pain.
Like a man so rapt in the beauty of the sun,
He does not care that he may never look again if he continues.

And yet I carry on, allowing myself to think of you.
Opening the door to my thoughts without hesitation.
I seek the comfort and felicity it brings now,
Knowing all too well it will return grief and verity.

Or perhaps I carry on because I have hope.
Hope that one day the reaches will be fewer,
And I can be free of the pain that comes when I think of you.
Hope that soon it will all be a distant memory.

Hope that one day I can come home to you,
Never doubting if you will be there or not.
Hope that when I think of you, nothing but happiness will come
And I can live with no regrets, knowing my patience was not overlooked.