h grace boyle
Nov 5 · 1 min read

An arm’s distance (may 28)

Held at arm’s length,

Close enough to savor the sweet possibilities

To taste their nectar, to see the bounty up Ahead

But Far, too far, for them to be reality

like a watery mirage in a desert

Cannot quench a yearning for love with sand

And so You hope and wait

and hope and pray

And hope and wish and wait again

Like You’ve waited before. Remember the fruitless days-months-years? Waiting, Waiting for…

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h grace boyle

sculptor with a chemistry degree who writes a bit

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