The Passing days

From the beach water between my toes
To the dense forest under my feet,
the change has begun,
My careless eyes are beginning to care,  

2281 miles away from you,
my eyes are taken by the thought of your face,
Books are like foreign objects,
the only thing that feels natural anymore,
are the things I can't touch,

The little things,
are the only things,
that make any sense,
I hope once the rhythm  is restored,
So the dance can begin again.