From the morning red
to the nightly blue
O how much yearning is left to do
My sun doesn't rise
and my moon is always new
My stars disappear one each day without you
Sleep becomes the road not taken
when the only heart-to-heart is at night
but it also becomes my last resort to counter the desolate times
Like Juliet of 21st century
waiting for Romeo to arrive
15 more days to fill the distance of 673 miles