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Missing Her

By Wil C. Fry, Dec. 12, 2005, 17:30

Copyright © 2005 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


So far away, her voice in my ear
Tendrils of love from both sides
Try to connect in the wires
In the air
Can't quite smell her, can't quite feel her
If memory is any guide,
It'll be one heck of a reunion
So warm, so tender
All done up like a doll
Waiting is not a game
It is torture
Knowing we cannot meet up for a midnight snack or
Stare longingly across the dinner table
Words are no comfort, words are not a balm
Nothing short of her touch can heal me or
Enhance my calm
I cannot reach out, pull her to me
In her times of sorrow or deepest need
A thousand miles would be closer
A hundred miles, and I could see her
Soon, though... A hundred yards, fifty feet
Twenty feet, two feet, five inches
HER.



Written at Pink Laundry, in Seminole, Okla.



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