With morning’s longing/
I reach out for you. I just/
can’t stretch far enough.
OR
With morning’s longing,/
I reach out for you. It’s hard./
You’re too far away.
You took an object/
immovable, and broke it/
in two. And it grew.
My heart rate rises/
when you appear, and whisper:/
“Let’s get it in gear!”
She wrote when she could./
Her excuse, valid and good./
I should stop crying.
Little green IM/
lights show one thing, thankfully:/
At least you’re alive!