Truth is whispered during times apart.

Small stirrings of the soul ripples pangs

of comfort and agony, each

unsure which is dominant.

 

The sense of belonging

ironically, magnified in a vacuum.

 

The sky is higher in Africa.

Closing my eyes

I am carried on the breeze,

caressing your skin and

teasing your hair with my breath.

 

Open eyes finds me still

In England,

suffocating grey pinning me down.

 

The workaday routine maps out my days

until your returning.

 

The evening is still our time.

We commune in the dusk and dark.

 

The moon is our postman as

we look up from different continents,

kissing our goodnights;

a coming together of hearts

no distance can frustrate,

proving our unique theorem

 

D x T = C

 

Distance

 

multiplied by

 

Time

 

equals

 

Certainty