It's now a week south of ideal,
a year past the afternoon,
the ideal afternoon: your presence
and time passing.
Wherever you are, if only I could
there be as well, at that moment
maybe a moment between the moments
where the stars could enchant
from beyond this winter's morning
blue sky, the cold, the clouds,
flesh and blood aging each moment.
the longest days are the days that pass
without you. I wonder about you,
I feel that smile, replay that smile.
I turn my head and imagine its there
across from me.
I guess
and the sounds of music I hear
coming from that mouth,
a symphony of pitches, sparking fire through
my brain, when you speak, the sound.
listening to that voice, looking at you, you are
she-brings-lightning-through-her-hands-to-your-body.
in the eyes
must be lost in endless joy
What is to be done?
What is to be done when you meet that
someone? One that seems like everything
was worthwhile, all of it, to get to this point,
everything that was life was life,
had to be lived
for this moment
to be born.
that moment of you, those two hours,
these moments of you, those hundred hours,
that make me wonder, and I do wonder,
in these moments without you,
what are you doing the rest of your life?
a year past the afternoon,
the ideal afternoon: your presence
and time passing.
Wherever you are, if only I could
there be as well, at that moment
maybe a moment between the moments
where the stars could enchant
from beyond this winter's morning
blue sky, the cold, the clouds,
flesh and blood aging each moment.
the longest days are the days that pass
without you. I wonder about you,
I feel that smile, replay that smile.
I turn my head and imagine its there
across from me.
I guess
and the sounds of music I hear
coming from that mouth,
a symphony of pitches, sparking fire through
my brain, when you speak, the sound.
listening to that voice, looking at you, you are
she-brings-lightning-through-her-hands-to-your-body.
in the eyes
must be lost in endless joy
What is to be done?
What is to be done when you meet that
someone? One that seems like everything
was worthwhile, all of it, to get to this point,
everything that was life was life,
had to be lived
for this moment
to be born.
that moment of you, those two hours,
these moments of you, those hundred hours,
that make me wonder, and I do wonder,
in these moments without you,
what are you doing the rest of your life?