I don't wonder about the Great Wall
the sound of the wind across the Sahara doesn't haunt my dreams

There are arias I have never heard and never will,
Paintings I have not seen and will not observe
Millions of images and sounds I live without
-it gives me no pause

But the hours that go by
not knowing how your hair might smell
imagining what your fingers would feel like on my face-

In those moments I catch my breath and
stare into the horizon,

 

waiting.

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

for grundoon, who knows how this feels

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