She is presently not near, and
as far away as she has ever been.

There is distance yet not enough.
Because if she were unreachable and
unattainable there would be no regret.

If that were the case, there would be only
memory of what was, past tense
as if the years and the miles equaled only a photograph album.
A collection of almost.

Instead, in its place is this: Waiting.
Because the miles are surmountable and the time,
it moves quickly but it does not diminish.

She is as far away as she has ever been,
still barely out of reach.