Contact

I have an idea while you wait,
Your presence still crisp in my mind.
When words no longer bring comfort or hope,
We will love with our hands and weight.

We will sense each other in a different way,
Not through letters or raised voices.
There’s nothing left to say
Now that we sense the transience of each moment.

We will play.

Roll towards me, lean against me,
And I will nudge and surprise you
There is a world of possibilities left for us;
There are still many things for us to do.

I will trace the outline of your veins
Under your parchment paper skin;
Feel the strength of your bones,
Press against atrophied muscle.

We will play away the long, sticky days
While each moment passing is instantly gone.
Yet each minute is slow, laboured and drawn.

Perhaps you think this is odd
But it’s the only way I know.

Wait for me to come home.