A walk, a traipse, a saunter
Up the now familiar hill

Long shadows bring companion
To consider my long thoughts

She now sleeps nine time zones east
My other self, my mind mate

As we yearn to touch again
Our shadow selves must suffice

Our words flow through the ether
Substitutes for flesh and touch

No sadness in this yearning
We form the poles of our world

08/27/1997

Posted on 12/04/2001
Copyright © 2024 Ronald A Pavellas