Tomorrow...

You are the poem I will never quit writing

For I cannot see you the way I long to

Miles fill the hollow between us, my darling

And are your eyes brown; are the green; are they blue?

The words to spell you have not yet been created

Rush of the wind and sun-sparkle of sea

Dew on the midnight and mist of the morning

Kilimanjaro as dusk bathes its lea

Sometimes I picture you having your coffee

Slipping from flip-flops to stroll on the beach

But over and over though I feel you near me

You are the poem still out of my reach

Sanguine of summer and sweep of the ocean

Whisper of wanting as I feel you sigh

Samurai sunsets and love in slow-motion

Willing your kisses to fall from the sky

You are the poem that keeps on inspiring

The hunt is the thrill of it; yes, it is true

Miles cannot keep hearts apart, oh my darling

Are your eyes brown; are they green; are they blue?

© Janet Martin