Yes, you call it time.
It's a mere sea, I say.
You're at one shore,
I am the other.
The same waters lick our feet
and the same Sun indulges us.
No bridge can be built on the sea,
for no monkeys work for free;
but if you wish, love,
I could try calling out to you,
and maybe a pigeon
will offer its services
and deliver my voice
at your shore-step.
I love this. Ah, I hate you though, for writing this. This poem's making me long for love, something that I'm trying to avoid. Haha.
ReplyDelete:) Well, I am glad you like it; Not too glad about its effect on you.
ReplyDeleteHappy blogging.