Is it as far for me as it is for you?
Reading something, some book,
important and watching you read
for twenty something minutes,
an hour, half of one day. The drums
beating behind my ears and loving
watching you read while the wind
blew your hair into all sorts
of shapes and watching the while.
Unsure of next moves, the wind
doing what it does, your smile
the same and waiting for you
to look up from those pages and
see the beautiful dragon
you became. You didn't.
Neither did I, my wings folded.
This is my town, my city, my block.
Not blacked not negative spaced white.
I can see you, hair still blowing
before your face and forgotten
the distance between our pace.
