The distance between me and she
When easily traversed by arm extended,
And finger tips, always is;
Nearby means a wholeness,
And in it the reasons to stitch together
This moment and the next;
Savouring the experience of place
It makes more the whole
when we both partake of the view;
The flavours, of the labours,
Of the growing, of the plants, of the garden
Are ignited by them being for her;
The skeleton frame of our days,
Is fleshed with a texture soft and supple,
By the day-to-day of us;
The being apart is the punctuation
In the subsequent being together
Of a sentence we serve as one;
It's that glowing strand of highway
That may go short or long over the hill,
That we discover together.
In the silence of the night,
It's the weight of all the breaths
We will exhale and inhale together.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
The distance between me and she
When easily traversed by arm extended,
And finger tips, always is;
Nearby means a wholeness,
And in it the reasons to stitch together
This moment and the next;
Savouring the experience of place
It makes more the whole
when we both partake of the view;
The flavours, of the labours,
Of the growing, of the plants, of the garden
Are ignited by them being for her;
The skeleton frame of our days,
Is fleshed with a texture soft and supple,
By the day-to-day of us;
The being apart is the punctuation
In the subsequent being together
Of a sentence we serve as one;
It's that glowing strand of highway
That may go short or long over the hill,
That we discover together.
In the silence of the night,
It's the weight of all the breaths
We will exhale and inhale together.
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