one hundred-sixty seven.

stretched apart.

i want all of the sky to be
my form of loose leaf paper.

and a branch of a willow tree to be
my special writing pen that way

i can scribe freely the thoughts, and

feelings, and emotions i experience

when you are not nearby, so that

wherever you are, the way that i feel

and the way that i think and the way that

i react will be captured by the eyes that rest

so comfortably on your beautiful face -

the one that i once held, now i miss.

you're so far , for so long ,

but it's ok , i'm ok because the moon

shines brighter when we're away.