if you were here
I wouldnÂ’t be so cold
IÂ’d have your arms to wrap around me
your lips to kiss away my fear
if you were here
and I wouldnÂ’t be so quiet
I wouldnÂ’t feel so sad
cause you always know
the words to make me glad
how to bring me cheer
and if you were here
I wouldnÂ’t be wiping this tear
there would be no tear at all
IÂ’d take no thought to fall
youÂ’d catch me, hold me near
if you were here

if I were there
thereÂ’d be no cause for despair
you could trust in me
not to set you free
to give you care
if I were there
IÂ’d hold your hand in mine
our fingers would entwine
there could be no doubt in the world
no jealousy or apprehension
all the worldÂ’s weight weÂ’d bare
weÂ’d relieve our tensions
IÂ’d play with your hair
if I were there

and itÂ’s just a shame
weÂ’re so far apart
never to see or to touch or taste
weÂ’re blindfolded
splintered as our vision is
all our love has to be our words
though I long to touch you
to see, to taste
with all my heart
but weÂ’re so far apart

but if you were here
if we were near
nothing to interfere
if I were there
weÂ’d show our care
our love to swear
straight from our hearts
but weÂ’re so far apart

11/27/2002

Author's Note: I was walking from the library to my dorm (quite a little stroll, especially in November weather) and as I neared the middle of the Bridge of Nations (which is actually the Bridge of Nation – singular – since it just has state flags... but anyway) the first line of this came to me. That sentence was unnaturally long... I apologize. Anyway, it’s freezing and this poem is in my head and the farther I walk, the more lines come to me until I just give up, sit down and write this thing. The rhyming was accidental in most lines. When I saw that a few rhymed I went ahead and gave into the natural impulse. I had no idea I had so much to say on this subject. I didn’t expect this to be as long as it is. It came from a place of real sadness in me. It puts out a lot of longing, but more than that it’s about sadness. All the things we’ve been dealing with lately – the jealousy, fear, distance – are bringing me down. There is a bit of hope in it. It’s like a plan... one day... when we finally make it... you know... I’ll play with his hair. I have to know that’s going to happen someday. This poem comes from that part of me - that hope.

Posted on 11/27/2002
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