Empty of words, my heart awaits
your touch, your silent singing embrace.
This time, intermediate, catches the muscle,
restrains the eye;
I reach to touch what is not there,
an imagined embrace,
sensing your presence already occupying
my heart's emptiness.
The remembered moment -- you withdrew
into a secret center,
to re-emerge, a misted froth, a sea-tide,
touching what had not been touched,
reaching what had not been reached;
and something in me knew,
from that first moment,
that I loved you, and would always love you.
Now I await your call, and the sound
of sweetness in your voice.
This time is a torture, a suspended joy,
a deep, deep uncertainty;
but my love for you is not uncertain
-- it is true.