Literature
Out Of Reach
If my love for you were smaller I would
saddle the swiftest sparrow I could find,
and wing my way to where you are.
Instead, the sun has grown small, its light
not enough, even with every drape thrown wide
to dispel the gloom of rooms we once shared.
If my love for you were smaller I would
squeeze into a bottle, make a message of myself
tossed by the tides until I washed up on your shore.
Instead my taste-buds have shrunk,
the flavor of my favorite dishes undetectable in your absence.
Even chocolate turns stale in my mouth
If my love for you were smaller I would
play hopscotch on the calendar, skipping
across