Distance toys the mind. Early on a Sunday morning,
I look into your eyes
Which exist only in the dancing dust within the sunlight
That pentrates through the rifts between the curtains.
I smell the softness of your skin In the clothes you hugged me in.
In that temporary moment I closed my eyes and felt forever.
In the evenings, I ask you, "What d'you want for dinner?" "I'll have what you're having." Your words.