Across the miles, you’re close, yet far,
a voice I hold like a falling star.
I trace your words in the empty night,
hoping they'll stay, hoping they’re right.

You’re threads of gold across the sea,
a dream I keep, a need in me.
In whispered calls and scattered time,
I’ve bound my heart to the rhythm of rhyme.

Each goodbye tastes bittersweet,
a thousand chances left incomplete.
And still, I cling, afraid to know
if letting go is letting go.

But love—our love—is a wild, fierce thing,
it weathers distance, every sting.
So here I wait, though fear may grow,
I hold you close and won’t let go.