Seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks have passed,
How much more times I’ll glance and stash away?
As I sulk here, see me flip the pages
Of this nicely-collated calendar.

Counting down the moments I’ve raged aghast,
Clearly, this distance I can’t laud to sway;
Seeking too much on familiar faces
Just makes me miss you, so peculiar.

But then, this muse can’t bear this sweetest past
As the radio keeps on playing The Fray,
The last time we’re close, we target aces,
Wishing to go together so far.

Atop the sky, airplanes that appear rushed,
Oh, I can’t wait for yours to land and stay;
Permit me to write this, don’t file cases,
Poetic license is familiar.

So until then, I bid you my luck fast,
You’d have to remove the world’s mind of gray;
And I shall pray as you head down to places,
Don’t worry, I support you from afar.