Since we first talked I have felt this itch I cannot scratch,
Hoping to see you for a moment,
And tell you face-to-face
How taken I am with you.
If I were to see you,
Would I be close enough to touch, to smell,
To taste and know the allness of you?
Upon my screen, I see a note...
“When will you be able to chat with me again?”
I laugh, smile, and wonder where it could lead.
“I’m here now,” I say
You write, “Are you there?”
This web goes on in mystery,
More words. Warm, prosaic schemes
We speak of writing—a passion. You go away again.
Is there a time when we will talk again And speak the wonders of our mind?
I think, and wonder: What mystery could unfold as time goes by?
While reading archived words I imagine your smile
And feel the tom-tom beat of my heart.
Why does it beat? Why ask?
I hope it may be solved as time goes by.