Sometimes I like to think about you
when I’m on my own like this:
looking at the sun and
a wind is blowing.
I imagine as the wind rustles through the leaves,
heavier and faster, and in between my fingers—
I imagine it carries my touch to you.
Wherever you are.
And it touches you as gently as it is touching me,
and I hope you imagine you’re touching me too.
we were at the beach
the sand beneath our feet
your hand in mine
the sun shining all the while
and i wanted to believe
that you would look at me
the way you looked at him
but we are ships passing each other by
on a dark foggy night.