I was never a lover of distance,
At best, a sprinter I tended to be.

But divides have always been a splinter,
In catching the favorites, that I would see.

Like walking along a creek.
A frog, does my young eye spy.

But he was going 'hop hop',
From way, on the other side.

So lessons from my surroundings,
I'd make note and ponder away.

So over the creek I too did hop,
Next to my little teacher, I would stay.

But I never cared much for distance...
Some gaps were much go wide.

The distance wasn't always the problem,
Sometimes it was the tide.

Of the great sea that laid between us.
It was the season, of great swells and rain.

Still without, all of the miles,
There'd be no sea, no wind, or pain.

Though I wish to walk all the miles.
Just to come knocking at your door.

Time is the real distance...
So I must wait...  A little more.