Poem #616

Photo by Hakan Erenler on Pexels

Would you say you know
how I feel?
How the moon and Mars seem closer
than the idea of us being together?
That the sting of the January wind is much less
imposing than knowing I might never again
kiss you,
hold you,
look into your eyes
and tell you that I love you?

Would you say you know
how it is that I get along?
Dead to the world, biding time,
a flame hundreds of miles away
to keep me warm,
keep me focused,
keep me plodding away,
fueled by the faint hope of a better future.

A better future,
somewhere,
some time,
anywhere,
I’ll be around.